


All the Difference

by BleuFleur



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-11-10
Packaged: 2017-11-23 07:28:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 66,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/619595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BleuFleur/pseuds/BleuFleur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A chance encounter changes the course of history for Fuji Syusuke and the tennis clubs of Seishun Gakuen and Rikkaidai Fuzoku.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Evaluation

**_September 18, 2005_ **

"Welcome to Kaishuu Tennis Center."

Sharp eyes ignored the respectful bow of the receptionist in favor of immediately beginning his examination of the facilities. Upon first glimpse, the brightly lit interior and gleaming equipment was evidence of the care that the facility's management invested in maintaining good conditions for the Center's patrons. It was impressive, on a superficial level. Frankly, the familiar repetitive _twang_ of tennis balls hitting both rackets and court surfaces was more important. That people bothered to frequent this facility, above any of the others located nearby, meant that the management was doing something right to entice tennis players to keep coming back.

It was a relief. With the end of the official tournament season, it had been nice for his friend to suggest training at this facility. They both understood that their love for the sport was neither seasonal nor driven by the schedules dictated by school officials. The days turning cooler merely called for a change of venue, not a halt to his training. And his friend had known him long enough to realize that he would not be satisfied with a facility based on recommendation alone. As much as they each respected the opinion of the other, his standards were often difficult to meet when it came to tennis.

He realized he had been lingering near an open gate to a court when the unmistakable noise of a ball whizzing towards him interrupted his thoughts. With effortless fluidity, the experienced tennis player pulled one of his rackets free from his half-zippered bag and returned the ball back into the practice court it originated from. Just inside the gate was a young pigtailed girl on the ground, whimpering and rubbing the skin on her shin. It seemed obvious that she had been reaching for the errant ball and toppled to the ground instead. When the ball soared back across her head (and the net) in the opposite direction, she jerked up wearing a comically fearful expression.

The young boy smiled pleasantly, although it lacked a certain warmth to anyone that knew him well. It was a strike against the quality of this establishment if its members not only had difficulty returning balls from a pitching machine, but were incapable of keeping the gates to their courts securely closed so as to not interfere with the training of others. He didn't begrudge anyone from learning the basics at some point - he just didn't want his training to suffer on account of another player's inexperience.

The familiar _whump_ of another ball being propelled from the pitching machine pulled him out of his tally and back to the present moment. The girl had scrambled to her feet and was rushing to switch the machine off, but she was too slow to stop it from releasing another ball. He calculated the angle and speed the ball was moving at, realizing with a grimace that he was not in the best spot to hit it back into the deuce court unless he wanted to hit the unfortunate girl. He sighed and prepared to move into a better position to return the second ball when another racket materialized in his peripheral vision. It sliced the ball over the net, much as his first ball had. The racket lowered quickly enough, allowing its owner to stride forward, swing the gate shut, and forcefully jam the latch in a locked position before another ball escaped.

"Hanaori-chan, the latch came loose again."

The girl flushed a painfully bright red and began bowing apologetically, somehow managing to avoid two additional balls that were released until she remembered that the machine was still on and finally switched it off. It was a good thing that the balls launched were on a relatively slow setting, or she probably would have several lumps on her head and back by now.

"It's amazing how she always manages to end up in this court, yet she never remembers that the latch is broken and needs to be wedged into place to prevent the door from swinging open." Fond amusement was evident in the newcomer's tone, as they both watched the young girl fix the settings on the machine and pick her racket back up to resume practicing.

Eyes low-lidded and a benign smile on his face, the girl's brunette rescuer turned to face the newcomer. "This is a surprise. What brings you all the way into Tokyo, Yukimura-kun?"

Yukimura smiled in return, injecting a bit more warmth into the expression. "Fuji-kun, correct? Scouting new training facilities, I suppose. Sanada recommended this club, so I decided to examine it for myself."

"Yes, it is very nice here. You usually don't have to worry about crowds, and there are enough courts to give you privacy if you don't want to be disturbed by other players." Fuji nodded thoughtfully. "I could show you a nice area that doesn't see much traffic."

"I would appreciate that."

The two walked in companionable silence, until Fuji stopped in front of a gate half-way down the corridor they were walking along. "If you continue this way, there are some courts in excellent condition at the end of the row. Most people don't like walking this far from the entrance, but I think you'll enjoy the seclusion. If you have any questions when you finish up, I'd be happy to try and answer them."

Yukimura thanked him and continued in the direction Fuji suggested, delighting in the court that practically gleamed under the fluorescent lighting. This would do nicely.

Panting softly, Yukimura patted his face dry with a towel and then slung it around his shoulders. It had been a pleasant workout, even if it was a little shorter than he would have liked. As nice as the facilities were, he would prefer to train closer to home rather than waste time on traveling. It was a pity that many of the best clubs were located in Tokyo.

After ensuring that all of his belongings were stowed in his bag and exiting the court, Yukimura began the walk back to the entrance of the Center. To his surprise, he could still hear the tell-tale sounds of a pitching machine launching its balls coming from the court Fuji had entered earlier in the afternoon. He was impressed that the so-called "tensai" of Seigaku was still practicing at this hour. Often, whether it was in academics, athletics, or the arts, individuals received the label _tensai_ because they had innate talent that allowed them to succeed without expending any effort.

Yukimura paused outside the fence, studying the movements of the infamous _Tensai_ Fuji Syusuke. Undoubtedly, he possessed a certain degree of natural affinity for the sport. His movements were fluid, displaying a grace that one could not obtain through training alone. Yet, there was a power behind each of his shots that could only be the product of long training sessions, much like the one Yukimura suspected he had endured today. He was confident enough in his own abilities to be certain that he could win a match against the _tensai_ , but it might be far more interesting that many of the matches he had played during the National Tournament. For a fleeting moment, Yukimura found himself regretting that Rikkai had defeated Seigaku in the Kanto Tournament before they reached the Singles 1 match. Although if they had, perhaps he would already have exited the building instead of standing still, considering his current train of thought.

The machine suddenly seemed to choke on air, indicating that it had used its last ball. Fuji exhaled deeply and turned to retrieve his water bottle, ever-present smile widening as he spotted Yukimura on the other side of the wire fence. With his free hand, he beckoned for the other player to come in and join him on the court-side bench.

"That last shot was very impressive. It looked like it skimmed across the top of the ground without any room to hook your racket underneath."

Fuji nodded, acknowledging Yukimura's assessment. "I call it _Tsubame Gaeshi_."

"One of your famed Triple Counters?"

Fuji chuckled, a few drops of water dribbling down his chin. He picked up his own towel and dried his face before answering. "I wouldn't call them famous, but yes."

"And you developed it yourself?"

Fuji again nodded.

"How innovative." Yukimura paused, wondering what Sanada or Yanagi would think of this conversation. "You know, I'd much rather see a move like that coming from someone on my team rather than the opposite side of the net."

Fuji smiled and tilted his head to the side. " _Saa_ , you don't look like you'd be the type to wear white and blue."

Yukimura nodded. "You're right, of course. But perhaps you would consider wearing yellow and black instead?"

The brunette chuckled in response. "Don't you think it would clash with my hair?" he asked in jest.

Yukimura's silence in the wake of his response prompted Fuji to glance up. He tightened his grip on the towel, eyes fully opening to appraise the situation.

"You can't be serious."

Yukimura tilted his head, sharp eyes once again shifting to evaluate the potential in front of him. Instead of a facility, however, his target this time was a person.

"You're quite the talented player. Perhaps even better than the reputation you've unintentionally been crafting for yourself." Fuji's lips parted slightly, likely to protest Yukimura's assessment, but the Rikkai captain wasn't finished. "If that's true, and you are even better than you've shown, that raises an interesting question: why are you holding back? Your tennis will never evolve if you always lower yourself to the level of your opponents."

To most other people, Fuji's flinch in response to the disappointed and accusatory tone would have gone unnoticed. Yukimura's shrewd gaze was sharper than most. The flinch, mixed with Fuji's next statement was like an intoxicating puzzle. "Tennis should not be used to hurt people," he said softly. "If I merely play to appease my selfish whims, I risk injuring my opponents."

"I suppose that is reasonable. However, you must search out those who are equal or above your level to raise yourself to new heights. Surely someone like Tezuka would be a better challenge to your abilities than these machines?"

Again, Yukimura caught the wince before it was covered by the neutral smile Fuji had worn throughout their conversation.

"You have already played Tezuka." he stated with certainty. "But you were not happy with the results." He immediately discounted the idea that Fuji had lost to Tezuka. From what little he knew of the Seigaku player, Fuji did not seem to be the type to quash his potential merely because of a single loss on his record. The problem had to originate from within. Yukimura continued following that train of thought, manipulating it in his head like a mathematical equation. Fuji was worried that fully unleashing his tennis style would hurt his opponents, which would make him unhappy. And if he was already unhappy, the inverse of the equation would mean...

"You played Tezuka, and he was injured during your game."

Fuji directly met his gaze for the first time since they had taken seats on the bench. Yukimura was surprised at the depth of bitterness that was suddenly visible in the smaller boy's eyes.

"You heard that Tezuka was injured last year?" Yukimura nodded. It wasn't widely discussed, but word got around among the young elite players of the middle school tennis circuit when a promising player such as Tezuka was reportedly suffering from an injury on his dominant arm. The exact details remained murky, even to the point of how serious the injury really was, but foul play from a jealous competitor was the most popular theory on what could have caused it. Fuji sipped from his water bottle, then continued his story.

"Several of the _sempai_ in our club were jealous of Tezuka's talent. They always lost to him, and that was before they found out that he had been giving them a handicap by using his right hand the whole time." Yukimura sucked in his breath. Even if he hadn't had the opportunity to briefly play Tezuka himself, the countless stories he had heard from Sanada about the upstart player named Tezuka that defeated him in the Junior Tournament would have clued him in that the stoic Seigaku player was a southpaw. Yukimura could easily see an older student taking offense at the perceived insult of a _kouhai_ defeating them so easily that they didn't even have to use their dominant arm.

"One day after school, Tezuka and I played an unapproved match on the school grounds. I had begged him to play me, even though first years were forbidden to do so outside of the authority of the club, but he agreed anyway." If it weren't for the somber tone of Fuji's voice, Yukimura would have been tempted to laugh. Tezuka had developed something of a reputation for being a stickler for rules as Seigaku's _fukubuchou_ and the most likely candidate for _buchou_ in his third year. It was amusing to think that he would ignore the Club's rules if it meant the opportunity to play more tennis.

"We met. We played. And I won, six games to love."

Yukimura wanted to jerk in surprise at that bold announcement. Defeating Tezuka would have been an impressive feat in itself, but to shut him out completely? Fuji took no notice to Yukimura's shock, caught in the memories of that miserable day. "I knew something was wrong with him, but we kept playing anyway. It was only after I scored the match point that I demanded to know why he accepted the match if he wasn't going to play me seriously. And then everything fell apart when he clutched at his left elbow in pain."

Fuji swallowed, his eyes temporarily closing out of habit before opening again in an attempt to peer back into the past. "It seems that at practice earlier that day, one of those jealous _sempai_ confronted Tezuka and yelled at him for patronizing him by using his weaker arm against the older students. That in itself wasn't new, but then the _sempai_ took his racket and slammed it into Tezuka's elbow." Yukimura felt his blood boil in response to such a callous act of violence. Bullying of younger students was despicable in itself and not tolerated at Rikkai, but to deliberately disable an athlete in the limb they needed to compete was beyond the pale.

"He was hurt, but he still played me that day," Fuji stated forlornly. "He promised to play me again once his arm fully heals, but it's been so long now. I think it's getting worse again. I'm not sure it will ever happen."

"And so you hold back, because you fear that you will accidentally injure another of your opponents?" Fuji opened his mouth, as if he wanted to protest Yukimura's choice of phrasing, but finally clicked his teeth shut and nodded.

"Well, that's stupid."

Fuji stared in astonishment at Yukimura. To this point, Yukimura had been the epitome of a charming and polite youth. For him to suddenly insult his intelligence was as shocking as if he had dumped a bucket of ice water over his head.

"There _are_ tennis players out there who are stronger than you, you know. Quite a few. Rather than wallow in a mistake that wasn't even yours and wasting your potential, you should go find them and continue to evolve." Yukimura's tone had switched from that of a congenial competitor to the unrelenting leader of the reigning national champions. "If the only reason you stay around the average players at Seigaku is because of some misguided guilt for an injury you neither caused nor chose to make worse, then everything you do here is a waste. You might as well go home and take up knitting or some other pointless activity."

Yukimura stood, frustrated with the turn the conversation had taken. Those that had no chance of winning had no right to step onto a tennis court for the purpose of competition. From what little he had seen today, Fuji was one of the few that possessed the ability to enjoy the taste of a well-deserved victory. For him to choose to halfheartedly nurture his talent and cage his potential by surrounding himself with mediocrity, all out of some misguided notion that he needed to do penance for the poor choice of another player (even one as talented as Tezuka), was the antithesis to Yukimura's tennis philosophy. He lifted his bag by its strap and lightly touched Fuji on his shoulder with his free hand. "Rikkai is strong because we don't accept anything less than the best. You wouldn't find yourself as limited in the quality of your opponents if you were to join us."

Fuji was genuinely confused. First, Yukimura insulted his intelligence. Now he was offering him a spot on his team? "You just won Nationals." He left unsaid that it was the second year in a row that Yukimura helped lead his team to capture the number one spot in the nation. Yukimura certainly knew his own record. "It's kind of you to say that, but we both know that you don't need me."

Yukimura smiled patiently, suddenly feeling as if he was trying to explain a difficult concept to Akaya rather than a player his own age. "Maybe not, but the experience would be exciting for all of us, wouldn't it? You have more potential to evolve than you're admitting to yourself, Fuji-kun. I would hate to see it go to waste."

"Thank you for your help today. Think about it, and take care."

As Yukimura settled into a seat on the train that would drop him off at a station near his house, Fuji continued to sit on the bench back at the Kaishuu Tennis Center. The brunette's eyes remained wide open; breaching the veil between past and present as he reflected on the joys and woes the sport had brought to his life. Tennis at Seigaku had never gone quite as he expected, between the failed match with Tezuka the year prior and Yuuta's refusal to join the club this year. The idea of transferring to another school should have been unthinkable, yet for the first time he found himself enticed by the idea of what playing tennis to the limits of his abilities would be like.


	2. Challenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fuji ponders his conversation with Yukimura. Later, Fuji and Yukimura meet again. However, the conditions will not be as pleasant as they were the first time...and they won't be alone.

_September 24, 2005_

As Ryuzaki-sensei dismissed the club members from their post-practice assembly, the noise level exploded from its previous attentive silence into a dull roar. For the third years, it was a time of mixed celebration. Although they didn't have any championships to show for their effort, the now-former Regulars had good cause to proud of their accomplishments. The Kanto region was notorious for its strong middle school tennis programs, whether you looked at the perennial Tokyo prefectural powerhouse Hyotei Gakuen, the community-oriented Rokkaku of Chiba, or the current National Champions Rikkaidai of Kanagawa. It was unfortunate that Seigaku's squad had lost to all three schools and been knocked out of contention for a run at the National title, but they put up a good fight. The retiring third years had helped rebuild the reputation of Seigaku's tennis program back to the high esteem that it hadn't held in over a decade. It was the perfect reason to celebrate.

Of course, they wouldn't have much time to celebrate in the coming months. High school entrance exams would demand their full attention now, with graduation following closely on its heels. Realistically, all of the third years could have stopped coming to club activities once they were knocked out of the tournament season, but it was tradition at Seigaku for the outgoing tennis club members to stay until the torch had been passed, so to speak, at the ranking tournament. The third years had merely observed the matches over the past week, but it helped foster the atmosphere of brotherhood that Seigaku was known for.

In another corner of the courts, clumps of first years had gathered to congratulate the lucky pair that broke into the Regulars on their very first attempt. Actually, Fuji noted from his shady spot next to the equipment locker, the first years had arranged themselves in distinct groups in _two_ corners of the court. Without a doubt, it was an unconscious attempt to keep the two youngest Regulars from misinterpreting something that the other said and sparking another round of their volatile arguments. Kaidoh Kaoru and Momoshiro Takeshi were quite the amusing _kouhai_. On the surface, their personalities could do nothing but clash - Kaidoh being surly and quiet where Momoshiro was energetic and loud.

And clash they had. It was hard to ignore an argument between the two. Thankfully their fights rarely got physical, outside the occasional shirt-grabbing or bump of the shoulder as they jostled into a position where they could scream louder in the other's face. Tezuka had initially tried to stop the fights altogether, as part of his duties as _fukubuchou_ , but everyone had learned soon enough how futile _that_ was. He eventually switched tactics, ordering them to run laps around the court whenever their arguments got too disruptive to the other players. After that point, their rivalry entered the physical dimension. Who was faster? Momoshiro might take an early lead, but Kaidoh could soon be seen outpacing his rival with uncanny endurance. Who was stronger? Kaidoh could already display amazing technique with a racket, but Momoshiro's potential in terms of sheer power was on par with Taka-san. They still argued - and it would be a frightening day when they didn't - but their rivalry had been focused into productive channels.

Fuji chuckled as he imagined the inevitable explosive reactions if he were to point out that they owed their Regular spots to each other. They both had the potential to be excellent tennis players, but it was their rivalry that pushed them to evolve so quickly.

"Fuuu-ji...what'cha laughing at?"

"Nothing much, Eiji. Just admiring how lucky we are to have two strong players join the Regulars so quickly after our _sempai_ retired." Fuji tore his gaze away from the ruckus on the courts and flashed a smile at both Kikumaru and his metaphorical shadow. "Congratulations on your new post, Oishi."

Oishi barely had time to blush and nod his head in thanks before Eiji had tackled him in a bear hug. If Fuji was interpreting the expression on the new _fukubuchou_ 's face correctly - and he was fairly confident in his people-reading skills - this wasn't the first time Oishi had been subjected to one of Kikumaru's monstrous hugs since the announcement of Tezuka's promotion to _buchou_ and Oishi's appointment as his replacement. Kikumaru's pride in his partner's new position was so obvious that even the most oblivious person would have noticed. Fuji was a little concerned for Oishi, though. Coupled with his enthusiasm for making the Regulars again, Kikumaru was going to be especially hyper for the next week. He had only been knocked off the Regulars once, but Fuji remembered how torturous it had been for Kikumaru to watch Oishi play doubles with another person. When Oishi and his makeshift partner had lost, Kikumaru was practically inconsolable and blamed himself for the pair's loss. He had worked extra hard to successfully win back his Regulars spot for the Kanto Tournament. Even though they dropped their match against Rikkai, the skill and teamwork they displayed had earned them the nickname "Golden Pair". For Seigaku in particular, where doubles was the biggest hole in their lineup, a reliable doubles pairing would be a powerful weapon next season.

Perhaps the new first year Regulars could help fill that gap. Fuji sometimes participated in one of the doubles slots with Taka-san as his partner, but they weren't an ideal combination. Their pair was good enough to compete against the local competition, but the team's ultimate goal was to reach Nationals. At that level, Fuji was unsure that they had what was necessary to win. Inui was rumored to have played doubles competitively before attending Seigaku, but he was often in contention with Fuji for one of the open singles slots. Singles 1 unquestionably belonged to Tezuka. He would probably continue to hold that spot until he graduated, unless he decided to sit out a match as the reserve or was incapable of playing for some other reason.

Fuji half-heartedly listened to Oishi as he tried to calm Kikumaru down, all while Kikumaru continued to prod and tease his partner. He quickly located Tezuka exiting the court, conversing softly with Ryuzaki-sensei. Their coach smiled and patted Tezuka on the shoulder, before walking back to the main building and (probably) her office. Fuji's eyes narrowed as he watched Tezuka unconsciously rub his left elbow before heading into the locker room. Tezuka never went all-out during the ranking matches (a consequence of being that much more skilled than his teammates), but Fuji had thought that his playing looked more restrained than usual over the past few days.

_"He promised to play me again once his arm fully heals, but…I think it's getting worse again."_

Yes, Tezuka would continue to hold Singles 1 at Seigaku unless something stopped him from doing so...like an old injury flaring up.

It was something he would keep an eye on in the coming weeks.

_October 23, 2005_

"Are you going already?"

Dark eyes glared back at Fuji, hoping that the wordless emotion they conveyed would both rebuff the older boy for daring to ask the question as well as supply the proper answer. When the boy that asked the question patiently waited for a verbal response with understanding shining in his blue eyes, Yuuta turned away in embarrassment and pulled his equipment bag tighter up on his shoulder. It didn't matter whether he was short-tempered or tried to give him the cold shoulder - Fuji somehow always remained unflappably calm. Deep down, Yuuta knew it was because of how deeply his Aniki loved him (hence the embarrassment), but it usually just added to the perpetual bad mood that being around Fuji put him in.

"Yeah," he finally replied. Fuji, who had long ago mastered the skill of reading his little brother's body language, could tell that Yuuta was fighting his way through an internal struggle. Should he snap at his older brother for bothering him one last time before he walked out the door? Should he try to take the higher road and exchange pleasantries before he exited? Given the fragile state their relationship was currently in, was it worth the energy to say anything to his Aniki?

Yuuta evidently decided that silence was the safest course of action. Without another word, glance or any other acknowledgment, Yuuta walked out the front door and slammed it behind him. In the silence that followed, Fuji continued to stare at the closed door. He watched it so steadily that perhaps, if he tried hard enough, he might be able to see through the door and watch his little brother as he embarked on the next stage of his life.

But, exhaling softly, Fuji finally let go of that childish whim and began climbing the steps to his bedroom on the second story. Deep down, he had known this day was coming ever since Yuuta came home from his tennis club chattering excitedly about the boarding school that had scouted him for their tennis program. Fuji outwardly dismissed it at first - the "scout" was nothing more than another student from the school and couldn't possibly have the clout needed to legitimately recruit players. But somehow, this Mizuki person did. An administrator had called the house a few days later, explaining how the school was trying to establish an elite tennis program even though they hadn't been open for many years. He had been very enthusiastic when describing the benefits of the escalator system and the quality of the academic program St. Rudolph could offer.

All of those features were important to their parents when considering the offer, but the most important factor in Fuji's eyes ultimately rested in Yuuta's reaction to the offer.

Yuuta was happy.

Fuji was well aware that, for the past six months, Yuuta was _not_ happy. It might have been even longer than that - since they moved from Chiba, even - but it had been impossible to ignore how unhappy Yuuta was once he started attending Seigaku. The first red flag had been Yuuta's decision not to join the tennis club at school. As hurt as he was by his brother's decision, Fuji understood it. Yuuta had always been determined to do things for himself. As they grew up, Fuji would just as proudly stand by to congratulate him on conquering an obstacle in his path as he would step in to lend Yuuta a hand. He had hoped that not pushing Yuuta to join Seigaku's club and supporting his decision to train at a private facility would give him the space and time he needed to conquer the newest problem in his path.

But what help can you really offer when you _are_ the problem?

Yuuta was beginning to flourish. The tennis school had been good for him by allowing him to improve his tennis style without unnecessary pressure. He had even entered a few tournaments, racking up wins against a handful of good players. As much as he wished Yuuta's path didn't diverge from his, Fuji wouldn't dream of holding Yuuta back from reaching his potential.

"Only when you encounter an opponent who can make you get serious can you take the next step, right?" His audience, a half-dozen cacti neatly arranged on the sill of his bedroom window, silently agreed. For whatever reason, this Mizuki and the players at St. Rudolph had helped Yuuta find the drive to improve himself. For that much, Fuji vowed to one day thank Mizuki for taking care of his brother and helping him to make a name for himself.

_"There are tennis players out there who are stronger than you...you should go find them and continue to evolve."_

Fuji bit his lower lip, annoyed that his subconscious would dredge up _that_ memory today of all times. His conversation with Yukimura had been pleasant until it turned personal. Unfortunately, the only reason the memory was unpleasant was because it was the truth. Currently, the only person who could make him play seriously was Tezuka. He had promised to wait for Tezuka, wait until his arm fully healed and they could properly play the match they agreed to play over a year ago. There might be other challenges waiting for him, but he didn't want to move on because he still hadn't conquered the obstacle already in his path. Maybe it was unhealthy to cling to that promise as much as he did. There was a risk he might permanently stunt the growth of his playing style if Tezuka's arm never fully healed - a risk that had increased since the last ranking tournament and Tezuka's more frequent efforts to rest his elbow.

The difference, Fuji finally decided, was that Yuuta was happier now that he had embraced a new challenge. Fuji had no reason to go out of his way to change his status quo because he was already happy.

Wasn't he?

 

 

_December 11, 2005_

_"Inui-sempai, the tournament season won't start up for weeks! Can you really get important data on the other teams now?"_

_"Indeed. For example, it seems as if the buchou of Rikkaidai has been admitted for an extended stay at the hospital, following a collapse approximately five weeks ago. There is an eighty-five percent chance this will affect the immediate training regimen of the entire tennis club and a forty-nine percent chance it will affect the composition of the Rikkaidai line-up in the spring."_

_"Woah, you're kidding! But that's terrible, cooped up in a hospital. And right before the holidays, too."_

_"Mmm. Inui, do you happen to know which hospital he's staying at?"  
_

"So I told Marui-sempai that if he could beat Nioh-sempai and Yagyu-sempai at the endurance drill, I'd bring him _two_ slices of strawberry cheesecake every day for a _week_."

Laughter softly drifted through the door out into the hallway, before an inaudible voice presumably prompted the first speaker to continue their story. "Right, well he must have really wanted to win the bet because he was doing really well, you know? I started to get worried, but then he crashed into Jackal-sempai with three laps to go and never got back up."

Before he lost his nerve, Fuji slid the door to the room open and crossed the threshold as unobtrusively as possible. In addition to the bluenette resting on the bed who was clearly enjoying the entertaining story, there were three other boys seated in different spots around the room.

"It was a good thing, because I don't know where I'd get the money to..."

The speaker, also the youngest in the room, trailed off from his story when he realized that a stranger had dared to enter the room. Even though he was probably only a year or two younger than the rest of the room's occupants, the way his face scrunched up made him look like a much younger child preparing to throw a temper tantrum. Considering that Yukimura also noticed the expression and touched the boy's knee to forestall an angry outburst, a temper tantrum was not an unreasonable fear.

"Pardon the intrusion."

Yukimura smiled gently and shook his head. "It's no trouble at all. An unexpected visitor is a nice surprise."

The passive restraint Yukimura held on the youth reached its limit. Jerking backwards so that unruly black curls bounced in several directions, the boy angrily pointed at Fuji. "Buchou, you shouldn't let in every weirdo off the street. He's not even wearing a Rikkai uniform. Who's he supposed to be?"

Fuji thought he heard matching sighs released from two of the room's occupants, but continued smiling. Really, Yukimura was lucky to have such protective friends and teammates, judging by the use of the _buchou_ title. And the boy was right - his traditional high-collared black _gakuran_ stood out next to the dark westernized suit jackets and striped ties worn by the others in the room. "Fuji Syusuke," he pleasantly answered. "I'm from Seigaku."

"Seigaku?" The boy repeated the school name, remembering enough about the name Seigaku to know that they had a tennis team but not enough to regard it as a threat. He rubbed his nose and scowled at Fuji suspiciously. "How do you know Buchou?"

Feeling a playful mood come over him in response to the misguided hostility, Fuji kept his answer as brief as possible. "Through tennis."

The boy might have been easy to rile, but he wasn't stupid. He could tell that Fuji was amused by his obvious dislike for the intruder who interrupted his precious time visiting with Yukimura-buchou. "Of course you know him because of tennis! Buchou's the best player in the whole country!" He pointed at the white box that Fuji had been carrying since he entered the room. "And what's that supposed to be? Are you some sort of a weirdo fan? Because he doesn't need weirdos to bother him while he's in the ho...here."

It could have been the increasingly hostile tone in the boy's voice or some well-concealed curiosity of his own, but the stern-faced boy that had been sitting silently in the corner began to stand with the intention of putting a stop to the banter. "Akaya..." he chastised, but stopped short of physically separating the two when Yukimura raised his hand and smiled. Rikkaidai's _buchou_ was finding his _kouhai_ 's touchy reaction to Fuji's calm statements to be absolutely fascinating. There was something about the natural dynamic between the two that promised to change both of them. He was curious to see how this played out without their interference.

"What a sweet boy," Fuji said. The newly dubbed Akaya bristled at being called "sweet" (at least by someone other than Yukimura-buchou) and clenched his fingers into a tight fist. Fuji's smile spread a notch wider at the sight. "But I promise I'm not too strange. I'm just a tennis player who wanted to thank Yukimura-kun in person for a..." Fuji paused, grasping for an accurate description for the words he and Yukimura exchanged back in September. "A thought-provoking conversation which I enjoyed."

"What - "

"Fuji Syusuke. Seishun Gakuen second year." Three heads turned to the new speaker, who was calmly reciting facts in a manner that strongly reminded Fuji of Inui...only without the data player's trademark notebook in hand. "Often referred to as the _Tensai_ of Seigaku, due to his unpredictable play style and rumored Triple Counters. Currently undefeated in singles play on the tournament circuit, and likely to maintain the Singles 2 slot on the Seigaku roster in the coming season. That is assuming, of course, that Tezuka remains in the Singles 1 slot as expected."

For a few moments, the small hospital room was devoid of any noise other than the quiet hum of equipment and voices drifting through the door from the hallway. The mention of Tezuka, a player whose name Akaya and Sanada were both intimately familiar with, momentarily stunned Akaya into speechlessness. He was also startled to hear Yanagi-sempai claim that this weak-looking boy with the weird smile was good enough to go undefeated in singles. That couldn't possibly be true, but neither Yukimura-buchou nor Sanada-fukubuchou had corrected Yanagi-sempai.

"Yanagi-kun, isn't it?" Fuji said to break the silence. "Your data-gathering skills are as fearsome as Inui implied. Speaking of which, Inui was able to tell me that you enjoyed gardening, Yukimura-kun." Fuji presented the white box to Yukimura, who gratefully accepted the present and opened the lid with care. To those in the room who knew Yukimura's hobby well, they were surprised to see him take out a squat, spiny potted plant. Akaya in particular looked tempted to poke at the strange looking plant - at least until he realized that the plant might be capable of poking back.

"I've enjoyed raising cacti for a few years now. Sometimes they can be a little more stubborn to care for properly," he warned, patting the spines on the top of the plant so that they grazed against his palm but stopped short of embedding in the skin, "but the extra effort makes the moment when they start to flourish that much more rewarding."

When Fuji withdrew his hand, Yukimura repeated the stroking movement across the surface of the cactus. The light prickling sensation was a nice reminder that not all pain was as debilitating as the illness he was currently suffering from. "Thank you, Fuji-kun. I'll look forward to trying something new." Yukimura raised his head and intently stared at Fuji. "I agree that the most rewarding accomplishments are those that that you need to stretch yourself to achieve."

Fuji let the pointed barb hang in the air unanswered. He knew what Yukimura was implying - their conversation back at the private tennis facility had never been too far from his thoughts during the past three months. At another time, he might have enjoyed continuing that discussion or challenging Yukimura to prove his point by playing a match against him. However, playing a game was currently out of the question and he would prefer not to have an audience for the encore conversation. It would be best to sidestep that topic completely. Luckily, there was a ready-built distraction already in place.

"You play tennis as well, Akaya-kun?"

"Of course!" Akaya answered, mildly insulted that Fuji felt the need to ask such a stupid question. "Probably better than you. After all, _I'm_ already a Regular at Rikkai," he boasted. Fuji wondered if he was doomed to be verbally challenged by students from Rikkaidai - there was no doubt what purpose Akaya's taunt would have served against a less disciplined person.

"Akaya," Yukimura chastised, "that's hardly a polite thing to say to my guest."

"Buchou!" Akaya whined. "But I've never even heard of him before! He can't be any good if I've never heard of him." Akaya looked dangerously close to sulking when he decided to redirect that anger. Eyes flashing with vindictive intent, he carefully chose his words based on the facts Yanagi-sempai provided to hopefully deflate the pretty boy's ego. "He might be good enough for Singles 2, but that doesn't mean much on a team of weaklings. Everyone knows that Tezuka is the only one who can play real tennis at Seigaku." Akaya smirked.

"If you're a real _tensai_ , you should have taken the Singles 1 slot by now by beating Tezuka."

The conversation with Yukimura in September was the emotional equivalent of receiving a painfully deep gash. It would bleed and throb at first, but with enough time the wound would begin to heal. But during the healing process, the wound was susceptible to conditions that would delay it from properly healing. Yuuta's decision to leave Seigaku in search of healthier competition wasn't much different than an infection that slowed down the body's ability to cover the wound with a scab and generate new skin. Yukimura's earlier comment had been like picking at the scab after it finally covered the wound.

But Akaya's final barb was like ripping the scab off and opening the wound all over again.

Fuji felt a new wave of turmoil and annoyance wash over him. He had been perfectly happy playing tennis and attending school with his friends until Yukimura challenged his philosophy when it concerned tennis in September. Now, he was questioning for the first time whether promising to play Tezuka again after his arm healed was the right decision. He still wanted to seriously play Tezuka at full strength, and badly, but the doubt of when that would ever happen was taking its toll on his resolve.

The mischievous gleam that suddenly appeared in Fuji's eyes was a warning. His patience had reached its limit, and Akaya was going to be the unfortunate soul that suffered the onslaught of Fuji's ire. "Is that so?" he asked sweetly. Sanada and Yanagi, having heard Yukimura use a similar tone before issuing the tennis club punishments after an abysmal performance, wondered if it was possible to save the baby of their team. In contrast, Yukimura felt immensely satisfied. He could feel that Akaya had accidentally pushed Fuji over the edge. He wondered what Fuji would do now that he was out of his comfort zone: retreat or press forward?

" _Saa_ , perhaps I just don't feel the need to repeat past accomplishments."

Fuji and Yukimura waited patiently as the weight of that statement settled onto the room's occupants. Sanada's jaw had briefly clenched after Fuji announced his victory over Tezuka. Yanagi, as inscrutable as ever, merely nodded his head in acceptance after a few moments and continued to observe Fuji. The boast would have sounded arrogant from most people but, like Yukimura, Yanagi was sharp enough to notice that the victory Fuji alluded to carried an unspoken price.

" _What?!_ " The screech emitted by Akaya was less than dignified, and his eyes were wild with confusion. "You're lying."

Yukimura sighed. "Akaya..."

"No!" He interrupted, words spilling out of his mouth before he could reflect on what he was saying. "If he already beat Tezuka, he'd be Seigaku's number one! But he's not...Yanagi-sempai just said he's only number _two_. Why would you settle for less than the number spot if you were the best?" For Akaya, whose goal was to be the number one player in the nation's number one school, the thought of settling for anything less than absolute domination of your opponent was unthinkable. Such was the law of Rikkaidai. You worked hard to get stronger. Once you were the strongest, you crushed everyone around you. Tezuka was a distant goal - someone he knew he'd have to face one day to feel secure in his spot as the nation's best tennis player - if Tezuka was as good as he was rumored to be. But before he had to worry about Tezuka, he had to overcome the Three Demons of Rikkai. Which reminded him...

"And even _fukubuchou_ hasn't beaten Tezuka yet! He's got to be better than you."

"AKAYA!"

"Uh-oh."

Sanada was on his feet, his face darkened to a deep shade of red. Fuji thought it was rather convenient that they were already in a hospital, because it couldn't be healthy for a teenager's blood pressure to dramatically fluctuate that quickly. Evidently, he hadn't taken kindly to the blunt reminder that there was still a national-level player out there he had yet to defeat, regardless of the two team national championships he could claim. His defeat to the previously-unknown Tezuka was clearly a stain on his honor that couldn't be washed away until they had a rematch. Akaya had inadvertently managed to pick at another festering emotional wound of an otherwise composed individual.

As amusing as the conversation was becoming, Yukimura opted to take control of the conversation and calm Akaya down before he got too out of hand. "You asked a good question, Akaya," he said indulgently, patting an open spot next to him on the bed so that Akaya would sit down. A little distance from Sanada would do them both good.

"So, Fuji-kun, have you given any more thought to my offer?"

Fuji really wanted to slap his head and groan. He did _not_ want to continue this conversation in front of three of Yukimura's teammates, but the Rikkai _buchou_ seemed determined to renew their debate. Fuji would need to get himself out of the room as quickly, but politely, as possible before something was said that couldn't be taken back. Thankfully, judging from the uncomprehending expressions on the other faces in the room, there was still time to flee. Fuji schooled his expression into his best poker face and forcefully chuckled. "I'm happy to see that you're in good enough spirits to joke, Yukimura-kun, but I should probably be leaving-"

"I told you before, Fuji-kun. I don't joke about tennis."

Fuji's pleasant facade slowly drained away, leaving his eyes hard and smile flat. Yukimura had called his bluff, and now he was stuck. The two older visitors were disciplined enough not to interfere, perhaps even sympathetic enough to allow Fuji to escape regardless of his blunder. However, Akaya had pounced on that last word like a kitten with a catnip treat. He wasn't likely to let it go unquestioned. Sure enough...

"What about tennis?"

Fuji eyed Yukimura warily. He wasn't going to push the situation that far and embarrass him, was he? He felt like conversing with Yukimura had turned into a verbal tennis match. He was at the mercy of Yukimura's next serve.

"I invited Fuji-kun to try-out for a position on our Regulars squad, Akaya. Assuming he transferred to Rikkai, of course."

Service Ace.

He was numb with disbelief. Fuji wondered if this was what it felt like to play against the Child of God on the courts. Going on the offensive right now was unthinkable when his defenses were crumbling around him. He couldn't even enjoy the way that Akaya had started spluttering incoherently after Yukimura's candid admission. Sanada and Yanagi, on the other hand, were behaving like perfect spectators - watching attentively but making no attempt to distract the players from their game. Fuji noted their lack of reaction in the back of his mind. If he had to guess, he would assume that Yukimura had already discussed with them the offer he made to Fuji. That left one critical piece of information still unknown - did Yukimura share because he wanted his friends to equally enjoy his joke or because he was serious and hoped Fuji would accept his offer?

It was difficult to tell. Even if Yukimura had been serious, Fuji wasn't sure how much sway he had over the Rikkai tennis club. Sanada and Yanagi were both remarkable players in their own right and had undoubtedly amassed their own respectful following. If they disagreed, would they have the power to overturn Yukimura's decision? Or did they trust their _buchou_ so much that they would defer to Yukimura's judgment?

Yukimura accepted Fuji's silence as acknowledgment of the point he scored, but he wasn't satisfied with a mere point. If this really was a tennis match, he wouldn't be content until he had won the game and set. A little variety could make the game interesting, though. Yukimura's next serve would figuratively put the ball in Fuji's court, giving him the chance of rallying back.

"Have the conditions at Seigaku improved since we last spoke, Fuji-kun?"

Fuji thought of his _sempai_ , those players that had now retired from the club. As harsh as it was, they didn't figure into his calculations. They had never been the strength of the team, so their departure was no loss. Fuji next thought of his _kouhai_ , particularly the two new Regulars. Watching them develop would be exciting and entertaining, but neither boy would ever be a challenge for Fuji. He thought of Eiji and Oishi, who could certainly beat him in a doubles match but wouldn't stand a chance if they faced off in a singles court. There was Taka-san, whose strength was fearsome but not insurmountable with the right approach and perseverance. There was Inui, whose data tennis was a curse when it came to having Fuji as an opponent, because he refused to play the same play style twice and constantly overcame his expectations.

And there was Tezuka. Tezuka, who should have been able to force Fuji to push beyond his limits, but instead was back to seeing a doctor about the condition of his elbow. Tezuka, who was torn between fulfilling two promises - playing a serious match with Fuji...and leading Seigaku to nationals. Tezuka would hold back his full potential if it meant minimizing the strain on his old injury so that he could lead the whole team to nationals. He had already given up the slot he was awarded at the Jr. Senbatsu camp. That meant that there was no one at Seigaku who Fuji would safely be able to play against at _his_ full potential without succumbing to the fear of injuring his opponent.

"No." Fuji stared at the ground, heaviness weighing down on his heart. Admitting to Yukimura that there was no one on his team capable of challenging him felt like betraying his teammates, but he couldn't dig up the energy to lie and claim that he was satisfied at Seigaku. Too much had changed in the past few months. _He_ had changed. When everything was tallied up, Fuji realized he was no longer satisfied with playing at his current level.

Yukimura regretted that their conversation had caused Fuji such obvious distress, but he was hopeful that it would soon bear fruit. The harshest training conditions could lead to the most improvement, after all. "Fuji-kun, would you do me a favor?" Fuji inclined his head, neither agreeing nor disagreeing until he heard the request. "I think you should visit our courts at Rikkai and play a match against several of our Regulars. I'd like to see you experience what it's like to play without holding anything back."

"Sanada?"

The _fukubuchou_ was hovering beside Yukimura before Fuji could respond to the request. "Yes?"

Yukimura smiled sadly. "I would have liked to do it myself, but we still don't know when I'll be able to leave the hospital. Could you arrange the details with Fuji-kun? Perhaps with Yanagi's help?" Both second-years bobbed their heads in agreement, all while Fuji continued to look uncertain that he would agree. Yukimura could practically feel the doubt that Fuji was exuding. Best to nip that reluctance in the bud.

"Fuji, we at Rikkaidai Fuzoku _are_ the National Champions. We did not reach that position by being weak. You have nothing to fear when playing against us...except losing." Even in sea-green pajamas and looking frail amid the equipment surrounding his hospital bed, the power in Yukimura's _sotto voce_ tone could not be denied.

"Alright, I'll go."

To this point, Akaya had been behaving surprisingly well. After his first few outbursts, he had turned to keeping his mouth shut in order to cope with whatever new shocks he received. It wasn't a secret that, despite wanting to beat Yukimura someday, he also idolized the _buchou_. Since he hadn't been asked to help out with Yukimura's request yet, it was up to him to volunteer.

"I'll play him! I can play him first, right?" Sanada groaned, while Yukimura chuckled. Akaya smirked, his confidence returning now that they were back to talking about tennis. He thrust his chest out and pointed at himself. "I'm one of those National Champions too, you know. I bet it would be a piece of cake for me to beat someone like you. The match would probably be over in fifteen minutes flat!"

Yukimura managed to put him off-balance, but Fuji felt very comfortable handling Akaya. Something about the younger boy reminded him of Yuuta. It could have been the age, or maybe the desire they shared to prove themselves to the world, but the other boy's boasts put him back in a downright _playful_ mood. "I think we could keep the match short if you'd like that...but you might not walk away as the winner, Akaya-kun."

The Rikkai players watched, some with more amusement than others, as their baby was thrown off-kilter again. In the meantime, Fuji genuinely smiled again for the first time since Yukimura renewed his challenge. "Just teasing you, Akaya-kun. I wouldn't assume that I could beat anyone in such a short time span," he reassured him. Fuji's expression turned thoughtful. "You really shouldn't say things like that either...not without researching your opponent first. Even then, people have a funny way of surprising you."

With that pleasant advice dispensed, Yukimura spoke again. "I'm so pleased that the matter is settled. Fuji-kun, could you make sure that we have a good phone number for you? Sanada should be able to arrange the details once the team's training schedule is set." Fuji nodded and scribbled down his cell phone number with a pen and scrap of paper that Yanagi offered.

"Well, I should take my leave," Fuji said, demurely excusing himself. "Yukimura-kun, I'm sorry for interrupting the time your friends had to spend with you. I hope you have a speedy recovery." With a polite bow, Fuji slipped the door open and disappeared back into the traffic of the busy hospital corridor.

While Fuji was leaving, Yanagi stood from his chair and held out the paper with Fuji's phone number. "Genichiroh," he prompted. Sanada looked away from the door to accept the paper Yanagi offered.

"What a weird person." Akaya scratched his head and glanced at Yukimura. "I'm allowed to beat him, right? 'Cuz I bet crushing him will be fun. And easy. And - "

A rumbling echoed throughout the otherwise quiet hospital room. Yukimura chuckled at the sheepish expression on Akaya's face. The poor thing had been in his hospital room since practice ended. For his stomach to growl that loudly, he must not have had anything to eat since lunchtime. If he had gotten cornered by Nioh or Marui, there was a chance he hadn't gotten to enjoy his lunch either.

"Yanagi, would you mind bringing me a cup of tea from the cafeteria? Akaya, maybe you could go and help your _sempai_." Sparing a glance at the tight-lipped and silent Sanada, Yanagi agreed and ushered Akaya out of the room.

"Be right back, Buchou! Bet'cha won't even know we're gone!"

When the room had again settled into silence, Yukimura patiently waited while Sanada gathered his thoughts. He knew his _fukubuchou_ well enough to tell that he hadn't been completely happy with how Fuji's visit was resolved, but he trusted Yukimura enough to restrain himself to one outburst.

"Yukimura, are you serious?"

"Yes, Sanada. We can't ignore that the chance I'll make it back to play in next year's tournament is very slim." Yukimura sighed. "It's unavoidable that our team is going to be short a Regular unless we take steps to fill that absence."

"Fuji cannot replace you." Sanada firmly stated. Then, his expression softened. "We believe in you, Yukimura. Even if it's just the seven of us, we will continue to win until you're well enough to join us. You _will_ be playing next to us when we win our third championship."

Yukimura reached out and briefly clasped Sanada's hand in gratitude. "I know that Fuji can't replace me, and that's not what I hope for him. Not originally, before I got sick, and not now." Yukimura sighed, reflecting on the byplay between the _tensai_ and the youngest demon of Rikkai. "Fuji could be a positive addition to the team if he plays seriously. He already has an interesting dynamic with Akaya." Sanada grunted, causing Yukimura to laugh. "It's true, isn't it? Not many people can provoke Akaya like that without causing him to lose control of himself."

He chuckled again, a touch of sadness flavoring his mirth. "I would have liked to see the match in person, particularly if Fuji plays seriously. I think Akaya will find himself surprised at the quality of his opponent."

"I'm not sure about that."

Yukimura sighed. "Do I have to convince you of the same thing I told Fuji? Tezuka isn't the only strong player out there. Fuji isn't Tezuka, but that's what makes him interesting. I really do regret that I won't be able to play him myself."

Yukimura brushed his hand over the spines of his new cactus thoughtfully. " _Ne_ , Sanada? Do you think I was wrong for baiting Fuji the way I did?" Sanada shook his head, waiting for Yukimura to elaborate. "Even if he doesn't perform to our standards, I'd like to help him advance his play style. The tennis he plays right now...I can tell it's a waste of his natural ability." Yukimura lowered his hands until he cupped the cactus' pot. "I'd hate to see another player waste his potential in the coming tournament season."

Sanada nodded, satisfied that Yukimura was planning ahead rather than giving up. Yukimura indulged in coddling his gift a moment longer before slipping back into the mask he wore while commanding the Rikkai tennis club.

"Sanada? I'd like to test Fuji in both doubles and singles. A match between Akaya and Fuji is unavoidable at this point, but I'd like to see how he compares to your skills as well. Maybe you can involve Yanagi in the doubles match? I assume he'll want an opportunity to collect data up close."

"Of course, Yukimura," he said gruffly, clenching the paper in his hand. "Leave it to me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: A new year brings new experiences! Sanada and Fuji chat, and Fuji plays tennis against two skilled opponents.
> 
> Additional author notes can be found at my livejournal and/or dreamwidth account.


	3. Persuasion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new year brings new experiences! Sanada and Fuji chat, and Fuji plays tennis against two skilled opponents.

_January 8, 2006_

"Game, Fuji. Five games to two. Change court."

From his elevated position, the umpire watched the tennis ball that had won the petite brunette his game point continue to lazily spin behind the baseline. As the two players leisurely shuffled past one another to the opposite court, Fuji's blonde opponent clapped him on the back.

"Good grief, Fuji, are you in a rush to go somewhere or something? You're playing like a demon today."

The game had started ordinarily enough. Fuji lost the toss and, since his opponent chose to serve first, dropped the first game. He kept his first service game by utilizing strong but basic techniques. Fuji again fell behind in the game count after forcing his opponent into a deuce during his second service game. From that point on, however, Fuji had started mixing trick after trick from his repertoire into his natural style. Over the course of the previous four games, he had only allowed a total of five points to be scored against him - barely enough to win a game when added together, but not even remotely close to be viewed as a threat to Fuji's commanding control of the flow of the match.

"I thought I was promised a _friendly_ match or two for coming all the way into Tokyo today. That was the deal, right Yuuta?"

Yuuta sighed from his spot in the umpire's chair, wondering for what felt like the hundredth time (although it was probably closer to the tenth time) why he had allowed his older brother to talk him into tagging along on this outing. The lure of tennis combined with seeing an old childhood friend had been too great of a temptation to overcome, but he should have remembered how playful the older boys got once they were around each other. "Saeki-san, weren't you the one who told Aniki he better not go easy on you?"

The blonde chuckled and punched Yuuta affectionately in the leg. "I guess I need to be more careful about what I ask for then, don't I?"

Yuuta grunted and waved his hands at Saeki, gesturing for the other boy to get into position to receive Fuji's serve.

Fuji, for his part, watched Saeki's faux-grumbling and Yuuta's building annoyance with a content smile. It was the first time since Yuuta transferred to St. Rudolph that he was spending quality time with his little brother. Yuuta had been home during the winter holidays, of course, but he'd had to share him with their parents and older sister. As much as he wanted some time where he had Yuuta all to himself, Fuji didn't resent Saeki's presence in the least. Yuuta was still going through a stage where he wanted very little to do with his Aniki, which meant one-on-one brotherly bonding was out of the question. Saeki was familiar enough to the Fuji family that he was like a second brother (from Fuji's perspective) or (in Yuuta's eyes) a chaperone to distract Fuji if he started acting too weird.

It didn't hurt that Fuji genuinely missed the time he used to spend with Saeki when they lived in Chiba. They shared a common interest in sports, most notably tennis. It was a shame that they didn't get a chance to see much of each other outside of the official tournaments when their teams competed or the occasional scrimmage arranged by their coaches. Rokkaku had come out on top this year, advancing to the national tournament, but next year would be another chance.

Fuji's smile briefly flattened into a frown, his eyes flickering over to his tennis bag where it sat propped against a bench.

"Here I go!" he announced. Yuuta predictably rolled his eyes at his brother's statement. Saeki leaned deeper into his crouch and grinned.

Fuji tossed the ball into the air a little bit to his right and hit it just as it was on the same level as his head. The racket slid behind the ball even as it applied the force necessary to propel it across the net. Saeki, who had been anticipating that Fuji would add a topspin to his serve, was taken by surprise when the ball sharply curved left after it bounced instead.

"Fifteen-love."

Saeki picked up the ball and tossed it back to where Fuji waited. "A slice serve _,_ eh? I didn't expect that."

"Shall I try it again?" Fuji bounced the ball and threw it up again for his next serve.

"Please do!" True to his offer, Fuji repeated the slice serve. Saeki anticipated the angle of the bounce and slid into position to return it. The two engaged in a brief rally, which Saeki moved to end when he saw Fuji waiting in the far right corner of the backcourt. He smashed the ball to the left, but the grin that threatened to break out across his face vanished as Fuji dashed to the side and spun around to execute a very familiar move. Saeki rushed back to the baseline, but he was too late to return it before the second bounce.

Fuji stood from his crouch and smiled. "Triple Counter, Higuma Otoshi."

"Are you kidding?" Saeki asked, shaking his head. "I was sure you wouldn't be able to get back into the right stance to use that."

Fuji merely continued to smile and looked expectantly at Yuuta.

"Thirty-love," he finally said sullenly, annoyed with the flashy way Fuji had taken the point. Well, to be honest, he wasn't sure if the annoyance was because his Aniki's style could be flashy at times or because his own style was pretty bland. The Twist Spin Shot Mizuki had him working on had some flair to it, but no one would probably see it before the Kanto tournament, assuming St. Rudolph advanced that far. He wanted to have it perfect before he used it in an official game.

Speaking of games, Fuji had begun his bid for a third straight point with a topspin serve. Saeki caught up with it and returned it with equal intensity...

...which apparently was what Fuji was aiming for all along. His racket arm was stretched back, swinging through and up to cause the ball to spin with twice the topspin that Saeki had applied. The blonde groaned as the ball skimmed across the court and crashed into the fence.

"Triple Counter, Tsubami Gaeshi."

"Fu~ji..." Saeki playfully whined again, while Yuuta announced "Forty-love, match point," with a grimace. Was it impossible for his brother to play normally?

"Ah, geez. Match point already? I'm not going to let you take the win that easily, Fuji," Saeki vowed.

"Maybe I should take this last point easy on you," Fuji suggested with a sly smile. "Then again," he continued, lifting his left arm high in preparation for an underhand serve, "I may decide to make this ball disappear instead." With a twist of his wrist, Fuji released the ball and cut it across the net. Saeki dashed to the spot he expected the ball to bounce, only to gape as the ball vanished from his keen eyesight. Yuuta rubbed his eyes, wondering how the trajectory of the ball had changed in mid-flight before he decided he really didn't care. His brother's tennis was way too flashy, but at least now he could jump into the fray.

"Sorry, Saeki-san. That was match point, and I already claimed the winner."

"Seriously? Man, I can't believe I dropped a love game." Saeki scooped up Fuji's water bottle and passed it to him before grabbing his own. "You really were merciless today, Fuji. I haven't seen you play that seriously in a long time."

"Mmm." Fuji sipped from his bottle, staring pensively at the bench. He bent over to unzip one of the pockets of his bag, but stopped halfway through the motion. Shaking his head, he placed his water bottle back on the bench and rested his racket on his shoulder.

"Ready, Yuuta?"

"I guess," he replied blandly. "Let's go, Aniki."

"Oi, Fuji, lead off with that disappearing serve, would you?" Saeki asked as he climbed into the umpire chair. "I bet if you had used that more than once I could have returned it."

"With your motion vision, probably. Why do you think I only used it once?"

Saeki chuckled at Fuji's candid response and leaned back in the chair. Based on the agreement the boys had come up with years earlier, the challenger had the right to serve first. Yuuta moved into position, but there was a puzzled gleam in his eye as he watched his brother banter with Saeki.

Something was off with Aniki. At first, he brushed it off as nothing too important since it didn't affect his tennis game, but that last comment to Saeki-san made him realize that whatever was bothering him _was_ affecting his playing style. Just now, he sounded like winning the match had been an important goal. Fuji, much to Yuuta's annoyance, normally didn't care all that much about who was the winner or loser at the end of the game. His brother was the type of player that would deliberately challenge an opponent with his strongest move, daring him to break it. It was one of Aniki's traits that he often had trouble understanding on an emotional level - why play a sport if you didn't want to win? But Yuuta knew that his Aniki treated the sport as if it was a mental exercise. He didn't do it to be malicious - more like the opposite. Practically since the time he started playing, Fuji enjoyed challenging his opponents to meet his skill level. The problem, from Yuuta's point of view, was that catching up to Aniki was extremely difficult. By the time you were able to overcome the first challenge he put in front of you, it felt like he had another half-dozen stacked up behind it.

Yuuta was very tired of trying to catch up to his brother.

But that didn't mean he stopped caring about his brother. Yuuta was mature enough to realize that it wasn't fair to blame Aniki for being talented and winning the respect of his peers - he just wasn't quite mature enough to stop himself from feeling resentful when those same people overlooked him as nothing more than an offshoot of the _tensai_ Fuji Syusuke. Fraternal loyalty still counted for something, though. As much as he resented the way other people made him feel compared to his brother, he wouldn't stand for it if anyone was giving Aniki grief.

Which brought him back to _why_ he thought something was bothering Fuji in the first place. They had just played four points...and Yuuta had lost all four in under two minutes. For Fuji to break an opponent's service game that quickly instead of trying to make the match "interesting", especially when Yuuta was his opponent, something had to be weighing so heavily on his mind that he wasn't making an effort to match the skill level of the person he was playing against.

Otherwise, there was really no way to tell that anything (new) was wrong in Fuji's head. He still had that same perfect smile on his face, still had that tendency to shower his family members with affection at the drop of a hat, and could still banter with Saeki-san like they saw each other every day rather than once or twice a year.

Yuuta dragged his feet as he started to change courts, not really wanting to get stuck in the middle of his brother and Saeki while they were teasing each other. He realized he was lingering near his brother's bag when a muffled jingle began singing in the air. "Hm?" Yuuta crouched down and unzipped two pockets before finding his brother's cell phone. Predictably, it stopped ringing just as Yuuta attempted to flip it open and answer the call. Instead, the screen showed a list of all the recent missed calls. Yuuta thought it was a little strange that the same number had already called three times today and Fuji hadn't answered any of them, but brushed any concern aside. It wasn't his business who Aniki chose to talk to and who he chose to ignore.

"Hey, Aniki, you just missed a call on your phone."

Yuuta added another tally to his mental list of "Reasons Aniki's Acting Weird(er)" because the look on Fuji's face _was_ weird. It was surprise, mixed with...apprehension? Yuuta glanced at the phone in his hand suspiciously before dropping it onto the bench. "You shouldn't make people keep calling you back, Aniki," he said when they passed each other to exchange courts. "It's rude."

"You're right, Yuuta." Also weird was the way that Fuji pointedly avoided checking the phone himself to see who had called. Or maybe Aniki just assumed that it was the same number that had called thrice before. But there had to be a reason why he was ignoring whoever it was that kept calling.

"Hey, Aniki," he called out as Fuji prepared to deliver his first serve, "who's been calling you all morning? If they're bugging you, you should just tell them straight out to leave you alone."

Yuuta felt his hackles raise when he received a double insult - Fuji blew him away with a service ace and blew him off with a casual "It's nothing, Yuuta." in response to his question. The rest of Fuji's serves went much the same way. Yuuta finally managed to return the game point into Fuji's court, but Fuji was waiting with a cross shot that he had no chance of catching up to.

"Game, Fuji. Two games to love."

It wasn't until Yuuta was bouncing the ball to toss for his next serve that Fuji broke the silence that had fallen over the court. "Yuuta?" His younger brother grunted in acknowledgment. "Are you happy at St. Rudolph's?"

Yuuta gripped the ball tight in his fist. "What are you talking about, Aniki? We're playing tennis right now! Don't bring up weird topics in the middle of a game." He threw the ball into the air and smashed it across the net.

Both Yuuta and Saeki were surprised when Fuji didn't even manage to touch his racket to Yuuta's serve. In fact, Fuji hadn't made any movement from where he was standing at the service line. "Oi, Aniki! You didn't even try to hit that!" Yuuta was not in the mood to be patronized. He wanted a _real_ game against his Aniki, even if he would get trounced by the perfect _tensai_. He...

...oh. When Yuuta realized that the reason Fuji hadn't moved was because he was waiting for an answer to his question, he was tempted to aim his next serve at his brother's head...just to force him to move, of course. It wasn't like he really wanted to hurt him. Instead, he scowled and looked everywhere in the court except his brother. "Yeah, I'm happy. Can we get back to playing now?"

Yuuta snuck a glance at the opposite side of the court and was relieved to see Aniki nod. He hit his next serve and suffered a Return Ace for his trouble.

"Fifteen-all."

"Yuuta?"

The hand was half-way to his forehead before Yuuta realized that smacking himself in front of his brother and Saeki-san would not be very impressive. "What?"

"Do you think you could be happier at Seigaku?"

"Huh?!" Yuuta had no idea where that question was coming from. From the puzzled expression on Saeki's face, he didn't know what Fuji was up to either. That was odd. Yuuta would have bet his allowance for a month that whatever was on Fuji's mind was the real purpose behind inviting Saeki out for this tennis date. There was a time when Fuji would confide everything in Saeki. (There was also a time, more recently, that Fuji would confide everything in Yuuta, but Yuuta was trying very hard to bury those memories.)

There was something suspicious about the question, which had Yuuta putting his guard up. Fuji had been surprisingly accepting of his decision to transfer to St. Rudolph. If it was his plan to lull him into a false sense of security and then spring some crazy reason why he would be better off back at Seigaku, he wouldn't fall for it. He was his own man at St. Rudolph and he liked it that way.

"I doubt it. Nothing's changed there, has it?"

Fuji lowered his racket, the rim scraping against the ground, and bit his lip. He _looked_ upset now, which was the weirdest thing that had happened so far today. Yuuta could count the number of times that his brother was that open with his feelings on one hand. What the heck was wrong with Aniki? Yuuta glanced over to see if Saeki could help yet, but aside from sliding down from the umpire's chair nothing had changed on his end.

"Yuuta, could you be happier back at Seigaku if I left?"

Yuuta was literally stunned into silence. His mouth hung open in an unbecoming manner and it felt like he had just swallowed a jawbreaker whole. Aniki was thinking about...leaving Seigaku? That made no sense.

"Aniki, what are you talking about? Is this..." Yuuta's eyes fixated on the abandoned cell phone, piecing together the few pieces of the puzzle he had and filling the rest of the picture in with his imagination. One, someone was harassing Aniki. Two, Aniki felt like he needed to leave Seigaku. Therefore, someone must have been threatening Aniki so that he no longer felt safe at his school. Obviously, he had turned to the two people he trusted the most (and longest) for help but, being the stupid brother he was, couldn't come right out and ask.

"Alright, who is it? Actually, I don't care who it is." Yuuta threw his racket to the ground and marched over to the bench where the cell phone was. Saeki allowed him to pass without hindrance, but Fuji was starting to look alarmed.

"Yuuta, what are..."

Yuuta yanked the cell phone up and flipped it open. "I'm going to tell whoever it is that you're avoiding calls from that they better stop bothering you, or I'll hunt them down. Stupid..."

Fuji was suddenly standing next to Yuuta. He plucked the phone from Yuuta's grasp and slid it into the pocket of his shorts. "Yuuta, sit."

"Aniki! I'm trying to he-"

The smile was blinding. "I'm very touched that you're willing to go so far to protect your Aniki, Yuuta, but no one is threatening me." Yuuta was stumped. Fuji's eyes were as wide open as they could possibly get, so he was certain that he wasn't lying or skirting the truth.

Without waiting for Yuuta, Fuji sat down on the empty bench and leaned back. He had exchanged the bright smile for a thoughtful visage. Yuuta flopped down next to him, propping his right foot on the seat so he could wrap his arms around the bent knee. "I guess I wanted to talk to someone about this, but I wasn't sure where to start after I got you both together."

Saeki sat down on Fuji's other side and put a supporting hand on his shoulder. "Fuji, who is it that's calling you?"

"Sanada Genichiroh."

Both boys appeared surprised by the answer. Saeki clearly recognized the name, but couldn't figure out how he was involved with Fuji. Yuuta had more trouble placing the name, but it finally clicked why it was familiar. "Sanada...you mean, the Emperor of Rikkaidai?" Fuji nodded. "What does _he_ want?" Yuuta had been in the stands watching the semifinal round of the Kanto tournament when Seigaku played against Rikkai. If he remembered right, Sanada had been the Singles 2 player that utterly crushed the Seigaku captain. He was pretty intimidating, but Yuuta doubted that his brother was afraid of him.

"Last month... _saa_ , actually I guess the story starts back in September..." Yuuta looked like he wanted to interrupt again, but backed down when he saw Saeki-san shake his head to wait.

"I ran into Yukimura here at these courts right before our ranking matches. You remember them, right Yuuta?" Yuuta slowly nodded, realizing that Fuji was stalling, which was another example of how unusual Aniki was acting today. "We started talking about tennis and he figured out that I was holding myself back." Fuji's lips quirked into an ironic smile. "He wouldn't leave me alone until I explained why, so I told him the truth. My first year at Seigaku I...I played someone I wasn't supposed to and he was hurt because I didn't hold back." Yuuta felt like Fuji had just unscrewed the lid to his water bottle and dumped it on his head. He didn't know anything about that! He wondered who it was that Aniki had played for it to have rattled him for so long.

"He told me it was stupid for me to be afraid to push my limits because I didn't want to hurt someone again." Saeki chuckled and Yuuta shook his head. Yukimura must have lived up to his nickname of "Child of God" off the court if he could insult Aniki to his face and get away with it. "He offered to let me play against his team because I wouldn't have to worry about hurting any of them."

Saeki finally interrupted. "Are you serious?" Fuji nodded again. "But Rikkai..." Saeki struggled to find the right words. "They don't allow practice matches against anyone they consider serious competition. Even holding back, your tennis is pretty impressive, Fuji. If you're saying that Yukimura could tell right off the bat that you were holding back, there's no way he wouldn't consider you competition for his team!"

The nod was slower this time, but it eventually came.

"Did you hear that Yukimura is in the hospital?" Yuuta shook his head, but Saeki indicated that he had already heard. "Last month, I visited him there. He suggested again that I play against his teammates so that I could see how my skills compared to theirs. At the time, I agreed. I think we were both hoping to see how far I can push myself."

Fuji took the cell phone back out of his pocket and flipped the lid open and shut as he thought. "Sanada was appointed by Yukimura to set up the time for the...practice matches."

All three boys pondered the situation in silence. Saeki rubbed his chin and spoke up first. "Fuji, I think all of us know that Yukimura didn't just make this offer out of the kindness of his heart. It sounds like...he's scouting you."

Yuuta's foot slid off the bench and slammed into the ground, hard. He had just been thinking about how far he had to go in order to catch up to his brother. Yuuta knew that his brother was good (it was his goal to one day surpass his brother's tennis, after all) but this was Rikkaidai they were talking about. They had the best tennis team in the country! He couldn't believe that Saeki-san was right.

Then again, Fuji's conversation with Yukimura did share some similar points with how Mizuki-san approached him. Compliments on his playing style, observations that he still had room to grow, multiple offers to test his skill against the existing team...all of that culminating in arranging a "practice" that sounded suspiciously like a try-out. Yuuta was stunned. Aniki really _was_ getting scouted by another school.

Fuji wasn't surprised, but he did seem a little disappointed to hear Saeki's conclusion. "I know. The possibility of joining their squad came up a few times, but it was mostly a joke. Mostly," he repeated. Saeki poked Fuji in the shoulder, letting him know that he wasn't fooling anyone (except maybe Yuuta) by downplaying the significance of Yukimura's proposal. The teasing gesture coaxed a bashful smile from Fuji. "I think I'm a little scared to think of what could happen if I play to their standards," he admitted.

"Aniki?" The two second-years turned to the youngest of the trio. "The game with me just now and your match with Saeki earlier...you were still holding back?" Fuji nodded regretfully. Yuuta clicked his tongue and folded his arms across his chest. "Stupid Aniki, still going easy on us even after we tell you not to." The seemingly harsh words made Fuji smile. Yuuta always got the most defensive when he was trying to do something nice for him, which meant slinging insults around usually went hand in hand with any attempts to make him feel better. His little brother abruptly grabbed the phone from his hands and stood up. Fuji craned his neck up (when did Yuuta get so much taller than him?) and waited while Yuuta stared at the phone with his back to the bench. He finally turned around and held the phone out. "I think you should go."

"Yuuta..." Fuji said with surprise coloring every facet of his expression. Certainly Yuuta had never learned to appreciate subtlety the way either of his older siblings did, but Fuji hadn't expected to hear him support him so bluntly. He wrapped his fingers around the phone pulled it back to his chest.

"Look, it's not because I want to go back to Seigaku, Aniki," Yuuta quickly clarified, walking out into the middle of the court. "It was okay there, but I'm building a place for myself at St. Rudolph. I'm really happy with that decision." Yuuta glanced back over his shoulder. "You're always thinking about everyone else when you play tennis, whether it's me, your friends at Seigaku, or even the guys back in Chiba. They're the reason you're hesitating to follow through with your promise, right?" Fuji bobbed his head affirmatively. He hadn't been sure that Yuuta would understand his reluctance to accept the offer, considering how driven he was to improve himself. It was comforting to know that his little brother still knew him well. "You should be selfish for once and see how far your natural abilities will take you. If that means going to Rikkai, you should go."

"Besides," Yuuta continued, picking his racket back up from where he threw it earlier and pointing it at Fuji in challenge, "I want to stand on a court with you someday and know that I beat you when you were giving it your all."

Fuji smiled appreciatively and flipped the phone open. "Alright, Yuuta." Pressing the redial button was a lot easier knowing that he had the blessing of his brother.

"Yuuta, when did you get so smart?" Saeki teased, ruffling his hair after he strolled over to give Fuji a little bit of privacy for his call.

"Stop that, Saeki-san!" Yuuta protested. The two shoved each other playfully until Fuji's voice carried over to them.

"Sanada-kun? It's Fuji. Mmm, not quite. I apologize for not answering earlier. I was playing a match with my brother and an old friend."

"Stupid Aniki," Yuuta muttered. "Blaming us for not answering the phone when it rang for the first time before we even left the house. Ouch!" He rubbed his arm where Saeki pinched him, then retaliated by kicking him in the shin.

"I suppose so. He's on Rokkaku's team, so you might know him."

Saeki flicked the scar on Yuuta's forehead and grinned. "Bet'cha he knows who I am already. We've had the best team in Chiba for four year running already!"

"Saeki-san, you weren't even on the team for three of those years. You can't brag about that!"

The two continued to softly bicker. Meanwhile, Fuji was chuckling in response to Sanada's previous statement. "Yes, it was enjoyable...Ah, yes. That should work fine." There was a moment's pause as Fuji listened to Sanada's question, then, "No, I should be alright. Should I bring anything besides my rackets?"

Yuuta knocked Saeki's hand away and jogged over to use Fuji as a human shield. It was good timing, as the telephone conversation seemed to be wrapping up. "Alright. Thank you, Sanada-kun. I'll see you then."

"Well?" Yuuta asked expectantly. Saeki waited on his other side. Fuji took a deep breath and snapped the phone shut with an audible click. "I'm going to Rikkai the Sunday after next for the matches. I'll probably spend the whole day there."

Saeki grinned and flashed Fuji a thumbs-up, but Yuuta remained pensive. "Aniki, are you going to talk to Mom and Dad before you go out there to play?" He rubbed the back of his neck. "I mean, like Saeki-san said, that team doesn't really practice for fun. You're all being ambiguous about it, but if they offer you a spot on their team they'll probably want an answer pretty quickly whether you're willing to transfer."

"You're right, Yuuta," Fuji said thoughtfully. "I'll have to see if our parents approve of me transferring even though it's for my last year of middle school. They might not like how far away or how big it is. Where St. Rudolph is less than half the size of Seigaku, Rikkaidai Fuzoku is almost twice as large. I wouldn't want to waste the time of Sanada-kun or his teammates." Fuji chuckled to himself. He had a feeling that a certain rising-second-year would track him down across Tokyo if he backed out of the scheduled match. "Then again, it has a superb reputation as an educational institution. It could open up opportunities for me in areas other than tennis."

"But no need to get ahead of ourselves!" he announced cheerfully. "There's no guarantee that they're really trying to recruit me or that they'd offer me a spot on their Regulars after they see me play."

"Aniki, don't be silly," Yuuta grumbled, scuffing his sneaker against the hard surface of the court. "You're an amazing tennis player. A team would have to be crazy not to want you."

The setup was too perfect to resist. Fuji threw his arms wide open and then wrapped his little brother in a smothering hug. "I knew that Yuuta really does love me!" Yuuta wriggled out of his brother's embrace, then had to pivot to avoid Saeki's tackle (who had evidently decided it was open season to pester Yuuta). He brandished his racket like a sword and tried to keep a safe distance from both boys. This was exactly the reason he liked having keeping some space between him and his family. No matter how nice he was, his family always ended up embarrassing him.

"Stupid Aniki!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: The date has been set! Fuji travels to Kanagawa for his showdown with Rikkai, and unveils a "new" weapon during his first match.


	4. Limits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The date has been set! Fuji travels to Kanagawa for his showdown with Rikkai, and unveils a "new" weapon during his first match.

_January 22, 2006_

The fresh, salty aroma of sea water assaulted Fuji's nose the moment he exited the railway station. It was a familiar scent that reminded him of his early childhood, when the most serious concern he needed to worry about was whether he had remembered to apply enough sunscreen before he went splashing in the surf with his friends. Even though there would be no frolicking in the water today, the opportunity to bask in the overwhelmingly natural environment was a welcome change after spending a little under an hour to travel to Fujisawa by train. It might not have been the beaches of Chiba, but there was something soothing about being so close to the water as he walked the short distance from the station to the campus of Rikkaidai Fuzoku. He imagined it must be a pleasant journey to make on a school day, with the way thousands of students pouring into the school in the morning and reversing the trip in the evenings bore a passing resemblance to the ebb and flow of the nearby tides.

It was good fortune, Fuji decided as the school's numerous buildings grew larger as he gradually approached, that the school was practically built on top of the beach. The largest structure, what appeared to be a pair of four-story buildings joined by covered walkways on each floor located conveniently at the center of the campus, must have had a spectacular view from its rooftop. He could only imagine what it would be like to climb up there with his camera at this hour and capture the breathtaking sight of Enoshima Island off in the distance, its white lighthouse still gleaming with early morning dew. It was a pity that the angle probably wasn't equally as good to photograph the Katase River emptying into Sagami Bay.

Even though he was somewhat dressed in honor of the nearby body of water, wearing a sea-foam green hued polo under a darker green sweater paired with dark gray warm-up pants, his outfit would be serving a far different purpose than lounging at the beach. Musing about the seaside ambiance and his photography hobby had been a nice distraction, but Fuji found his thoughts circling back to the reason for his early-morning trip south of Tokyo as he neared the primary gates leading into Rikkaidai's campus. The weight of the equipment bag thumping rhythmically against his back in time with his footsteps was a steady reminder of the activities that awaited him inside the school's gates.

Before concern about how he would find the tennis courts on a campus deserted for the weekend could cross his mind, Fuji observed a tall, imposing figure standing just outside the main gate into the school. They must have noticed each other at the same time, for the young man removed his hands from his pockets and straightened even further as Fuji finished his approach.

"Sanada-kun, good morning. I hope you weren't waiting long," Fuji greeted.

"Fuji," Sanada said, acknowledging Fuji in a clipped tone. "It wasn't any hardship. You arrived earlier than we asked. I take it you didn't have any difficulties on your trip?"

"No, none at all," Fuji answered. The two passed through a small portion of the gate that had been slid over to allow entrance. Once the other boy closed the gate behind them, he had no choice but to match Sanada's quick pace as he led Fuji through the middle school portion of the Rikkaidai campus. They passed the large classroom complex he had admired on his walk without any comment from Sanada. Clearly, the focus today was not on academics. The time for a full tour would come much later...if the activity on the tennis courts went well.

"The commute was a little longer than I'm used to, but it's not something I think I would have a problem with." Sanada nodded, but otherwise continued silently leading Fuji a short distance from the entrance where the tennis courts were located. Fuji followed his example and squashed the urge to make further small talk.

Even though a tall brick wall surrounding the campus blocked it from sight, a brisk sea breeze served as a constant reminder of the nearby water. For a fleeting moment, Fuji wished he could take comfort in the familiar weight of his Seigaku jersey. Although it might have helped to block the chill, he had left it at home. In light of the reason he was playing tennis today, he decided it was a necessary concession. It still felt like a small betrayal, as if he had already abandoned Seigaku and exposed how vulnerable he was. The white, blue and red jersey was so important to the members of the tennis club. Fuji was proud for having earned his in his first year, during the first ranking tournament following the retirement of the third year _sempai_ from club activities. He had proven he deserved to keep it with every tournament that followed, and he hadn't quite realized how accustomed he was to wearing it until he left the house without it.

It was undeniable that wearing it today would have sent the wrong message about his intentions for coming. Everyone that would be playing (or watching) was probably already aware that he was a Seigaku regular, but shoving it in their faces would be counterproductive.

Not that the Rikkai club members were worried about the effect their uniform would have on him. The predominantly yellow jersey proudly hanging from Sanada's shoulders was hard to miss. As they approached a fenced complex containing multiple courts, Fuji could see several more people identically dressed in the Rikkai uniform. Since there were only three on the courts, Fuji assumed they were also Regulars. It could have been a dangerous assumption to make, since even the pre-Regulars wore the same uniform as the members that competed on a regular basis. Seigaku was rather unique in the point of pride they bestowed on their Regulars by reserving a special uniform for them.

"Do you need to dress out?" Sanada suddenly asked, interrupting Fuji's silent musings. He shook his head negatively. Sanada then proceeded down a set of steps that led to the gated courts dug deep into the ground. "That building," he explained, pointing to a two-story building on the opposite side of the courts, "is the team's clubhouse. The first floor has lockers, showers and areas where the players can change. The second floor holds weight training facilities and other stationary exercise equipment, as well as several cages with pitching machines for when conditions don't allow training outside. The equipment is unofficially reserved for the team's Regulars, and in return we are expected to use the equipment to its full potential." Fuji nodded thoughtfully, noting with interest the power wrist weight that was revealed when Sanada's jersey sleeve slid back from lifting his arm. It was another example of how seriously Rikkai treated their tennis program that their training regiment was so strict year-round.

He wondered if Rikkai expected their team members to wear the weights around the clock too. Seigaku also used wrist and ankle weights to help the students increase their strength, speed and stamina, but Fuji would draw the line if anyone ever asked him to wear them to bed.

Sanada and Fuji watched the three players engaged in a two-on-one warm-up rally without any attempt to interrupt. Fuji identified the lone player as the young boy that had been visiting Yukimura in the hospital - Akaya-kun. He was doing an admirable job defending against a clearly older boy wearing glasses and a shorter boy with shockingly red hair in a pageboy cut. Even though he didn't say so, Fuji had the feeling that Sanada approved of their effort. He strode forward, calling them out by name. "Akaya! Marui! Yagyu!" As if it had been choreographed beforehand, the three lowered their rackets and walked over to form a line in front of Sanada.

Something appeared to be upsetting Sanada. He eyed the line, or rather a gap in the line, distastefully. "Where is Nioh?" Sanada demanded to know. The boy wearing glasses lifted his shoulders so slightly that the movement barely qualified as a shrug, but the intention was the same. "He's late," was the only answer any of the trio could offer.

Sanada muttered something under his breath, inaudible for all present to hear, then introduced their guest. "This is Fuji."

Fuji smiled and bowed to the group. "I hope we'll work well together." When he rose, Sanada was watching him expectantly.

"How much time will you need to warm up?" Fuji lowered his equipment bag to the ground and considered the question with a tilt of his head. "Probably not long. I was up early for a run and kept my legs moving during the train ride, so I shouldn't need much to loosen them back up. It won't take long to get my arms ready."

"Good. The rest of the team should be ready in about ten minutes. You can do a rally on one of the courts until then..." Akaya rocked forward on the balls of his feet, his mouth opening with the intention of demanding that Fuji warm-up against him, but Sanada calmly blocked him by belatedly tacking "with Yagyu" onto his instructions. Akaya whined under his breath, but the redhead poked him with his racket until they had resumed their earlier rally on one of the courts.

Fuji followed Yagyu onto an adjacent court after he removed one racket from his bag, running through some stretches for his biceps and triceps as they walked. "I appreciate your help."

"It's not a problem. We all would like to see you do your best against Akaya." There was something subtly condescending in the tone that Fuji had trouble placing...until he realized that Yagyu doubted he would be able to keep up with Akaya-kun's skill level. As they fell into a comfortable pace of hitting the ball Yagyu had retrieved, Fuji's grin tightened. These Rikkai players were amazing. He didn't think he had ever met a group of people that ignited his competitive instincts quite like them. Losing a tennis match had never upset him in the past. Granted, it happened infrequently and usually only when he played doubles, but he had always found comfort in knowing that he played his best.

He found he was quite unhappy about being underestimated. Merely playing his best would not be enough today - he wanted to win.

The two exchanged little chatter during their rally, although Fuji did learn that the other boy was exceedingly polite and a student council member. There was some banter drifting from the other court, where Akaya-kun seemed to be teasing Marui about how being a _tensai_ wasn't anything special if he could crush him so easily and Marui retaliated by threatening to share how easily Akaya could get crushed by a girl. Fuji wondered what the story behind that taunt was.

Shortly before the ten minute period Sanada allotted for Fuji to warm-up expired, he noticed two people maneuvering down one of the set of steps with a bench between them. Fuji recognized the first person as Yanagi. Yagyu introduced the tall dark-skinned companion helping him carry the bench as Jackal.

"Yanagi-sempai, what's that for?" Akaya called out once the pair had lowered the bench into a position near the fence that was meant to keep it out of the path of any stray balls. "Didn't _fukubuchou_ say that sitting down to watch a game only promoted laziness?"

Said _fukubuchou_ had approached soon enough to hear Akaya's question, but the serene voice that answered came from slightly behind him. "Sanada insisted that I have something to rest on while I observe today's matches. How troublesome of me, right?"

"Buchou!" Fuji bit his lip to conceal a chuckle as Marui struggled to hold Akaya back from tackling their fragile captain. The tennis ace had gotten so excited by the surprise appearance that he accidentally smacked the redhead's face, resulting in a tense moment where he almost choked on his gum until Jackal rushed over to restrain Akaya for him.

"Oi, Jackal! Why didn't you warn me?" Marui complained, rubbing his throat where the gum had threatened to clog up his windpipe. "You know the brat is dangerous when he gets excited!"

"I didn't know either!" Jackal protested. "I just found out when I saw him sitting in the clubhouse."

"Maybe you should've kept your eyes open a little more," a new voice drawled. Slouched against the fence behind the rest of the team, the final member of the Rikkai Regulars smirked at the still sputtering Marui.

"Nioh!" Sanada took a step forward with his hand raised, but froze when Yukimura lightly touched his back. "Sanada, that can wait until later. Perhaps we should start the matches?" The _fukubuchou_ nodded and Akaya leapt onto the court. Yukimura dipped his head in greeting. "I hope you don't mind that we promised Akaya the first match. After that, we can give you a different taste of what our team has to offer. Is that alright?"

Fuji nodded, expecting as much. Facing Akaya first was a test in itself. The other members of the team might have expected Fuji to have trouble with their first year ace, but Yukimura expected more. If (for whatever reason) Yukimura was wrong about his skill level and Akaya proved too difficult for him to handle, Fuji didn't doubt that he would politely be sent on his way from Rikkai.

He followed Akaya's earlier path out to the net at a more sedate pace, wincing when there was a mild commotion behind him as everyone scrambled to position themselves around the newly placed bench. When Fuji turned back, a wall of yellow and black greeted him. Yukimura was seated in the middle of the bench, Yanagi to his right and Marui perched on his left. Sanada hovered behind Yukimura protectively, while Jackal and Yagyu watched the court attentively from behind Yanagi. The latecomer Nioh was using Marui's head as an armrest, either oblivious or deliberately ignoring the way Sanada looked like he wanted to slap him. (Not for the first time, he wondered exactly how Nioh managed to get to the tennis courts since Sanada locked the gate behind them when they entered.)

Violent tendencies and bewildering mysteries aside, the group formed a heartwarming picture that strongly reminded Fuji of a family. All it was missing was a child - who he realized was waiting for him to begin the match. Fuji turned to Akaya, feeling a coil of excitement wrap around his heart when he was greeted head-on by bright green eyes. "Did you do your homework, Akaya-kun?"

The eagerness in the boy's eyes briefly dimmed before he realized that Fuji was referring to their conversation back in the hospital. "Yanagi-sempai told me all about your little counter-moves." Akaya insisted confidently. "You won't be able to beat me with just those tricks."

"Is that so?" Fuji asked. He was pleased that, in his own way, Akaya was taking this match seriously. "Then, you still think this will be a quick game?" Akaya had boasted that he could beat the _tensai_ in fifteen minutes. Fuji would prefer a long, thrilling match that forced him to stretch himself, but today he would only be a little disappointed if the game was that short so long as he came out the winner.

"Of course it will!"

Fuji chuckled. "Then why don't you pick which side for the toss?"

Akaya didn't even hesitate. "Rough."

Fuji spun the racket and smiled indulgently when he saw which way it fell. "Rough it is."

Akaya took his position behind the baseline and gripped a tennis ball in his hand. "You better be ready, _tensai_ -san _,_ 'cuz here I go!"

The serve wasn't particularly special, but it did force Fuji to dash forward to intercept and return it. The point quickly devolved into a challenge to see whose speed was greater. Over on the Rikkai bench, Marui jerked forward to try and dislodge Nioh's arm. Yagyu glanced over at their antics, then redirected his attention to the match. "It should be interesting to see how long Fuji-kun's counter-attacks can hold out against Akaya's aggressive play style. It's a pity he prefers to answer the pace of his opponents rather than control the offense."

"Sure about that, Yag~yu?" Nioh asked, drawing out the name of his occasional doubles partner. "Take a closer look. Fuji is the one attacking."

The majority of the Rikkai bench was astonished that Nioh was correct. Both players were hitting balls that forced the other to sprint to the opposite corner of the court, but Fuji remained calm and composed in his movements. Akaya, in comparison, nearly fell over his feet as he attempted to reach one ball. The hiccup in his stride opened up the chance for Fuji to smash and score the first point.

Akaya stared at his feet as if they betrayed him, then up at Fuji. "Not bad," he muttered. He wasted no time in launching his second serve, resuming the speed battle. As they fell into a familiar rhythm, Akaya decided to take the initiative to disrupt the flow. Without warning, he sliced the ball to the diagonal court. Fuji hit it back with an audible _twang_ against the gut of his racket. Before Akaya could approach, the ball hopped across the net and soared high into the air. "What was that supposed to be?" he asked. Fuji merely smiled as the ball suddenly sank directly onto the baseline and bounced back past Akaya's head and into Fuji's waiting hand.

"Triple Counter," Fuji announced proudly, "Hakugei."

The reactions on the Rikkai bench were varied. "Yanagi, was that the one you were missing?" Yukimura calmly asked.

"Yes," the team's data player answered. "Fascinating the way he used the natural air current to add to the ball's spin."

"Wait..." Jackal interrupted incredulously. "He used the wind to do that? How is that possible? There's barely a breeze!"

Nioh whistled, impressed, and thumped Marui on the shoulder. "Now _that_ is genius-like!" Marui retorted with an annoyed "Shut up, Nioh," and another attempt to shake the Trickster off his head.

Back on the court, Akaya was too gobsmacked to brush off his shock with a smart-aleck comment. He bounced the ball in preparation to serve, then dashed forward. Fuji met him halfway and they exchanged a brief rally that ended with a well-timed drop shot from Fuji.

Akaya was starting to shake. That annoying guy had stolen three points from him in practically no time. For as excited as he was to initially discover that Yukimura was observing today's practice, Akaya now desperately wished that _buchou_ was resting at home. To lose that badly to some no-name from a second-tier school was embarrassing. He had to retake control.

Fuji caught Akaya's explosive serve and fell back into the rhythm of the first two points. When Akaya appeared to once again stumble, Fuji aimed a cross-court shot outside of Akaya's reach. However, the ace smirked. "Idiot, that was a fake!" Akaya pivoted and was instantly behind the ball, thanks to a one-foot split step. He hit the ball with a powerful slice, certain that he had won the point.

"Triple Counter, Hakugei," Fuji announced again, catching up to the ball and applying the super backspin that would influence its unusual movement.

"That again?" Akaya lifted his racket and swung as the ball began to travel back to Fuji. "Bye-bye, _tensai_ -san," he taunted while smashing the ball back to Fuji.

But Fuji wasn't done yet. He calmly raised his racket and spun around into a crouch, sending the ball flying over Akaya's head where it eventually landed on the baseline. Fuji rose, a wry smile on his lips. "Triple Counter, Higuma Otoshi," he explained.

Sanada's voice boomed across the court. "Game, Fuji. One game to love. Change court."

"What is this guy?" Akaya muttered. His chest shuddered as he inhaled gulp after gulp of air. Even after all the advice he had received from Yanagi-sempai about Fuji's recorded play style, he hadn't expected to have this much trouble with the _tensai_. He had thought about letting Fuji score a few points, just to make it look like he stood a chance. Instead, the guy was turning out to be as tricky as Nioh-sempai. Fuji had warned him about the dangers of underestimating your opponent back when they first met. Akaya hadn't taken that advice to heart, and now he was paying for it.

"Akaya's serve was immediately broken," Yanagi observed. "His pride won't handle that insult well."

"Yeah," Jackal agreed. "It looks like Akaya's eyes are becoming bloodshot. We might need to worry about whether Fuji will walk away in one piece."

As the weight of the humiliation settled into his mind, the whites of Akaya's eyes were indeed turning red. He snarled and kicked the post as he passed by, falling prey to his temper.

"What bad manners. I'm surprised."

Akaya unleashed the full power of his red gaze onto Fuji, who calmly matched it. "I will crush you," Akaya vowed. The only people allowed to beat him in tennis were the Big Three, and that was only until he was strong enough to take them on. Countering specialist or not, he would not stand to be beaten by anyone else.

When Fuji stepped to the baseline and prepared his serve, comments again broke out on the Rikkai bench. "Is he for real? Using an underhand serve against Akaya?" Marui asked. Their disgust at the seemingly weak serve turned to amazement when the ball appeared to vanish and reappear behind Akaya. Fuji persisted using the disappearing serve throughout his service game. He managed another service ace before Akaya was finally able to mark it correctly for a return. Merely returning it wasn't enough, since Fuji unveiled his third Triple Counter, Tsubame Gaeshi, to score the third point of the game.

Fuji was impressed with the way Akaya's speed and power had dramatically increased in the wake of his unusual eye condition. That 'bloodshot' mode made him an even more dangerous opponent, but not impossible to overcome. Against a lesser opponent, Akaya's decision to wait for the ball to bounce in his court and then take advantage of his extra power to smash it for a point might have worked. But Fuji was no ordinary player. He answered power with power, smashing the ball past Akaya to score his final point of the second game.

"I'm not sure I believe it." Yagyu pushed his glasses higher on the bridge of his nose. "Akaya is being overpowered offensively."

Akaya couldn't believe it either. This was _not_ how the match was supposed to go. Buchou was still outwardly smiling, but he must have been disappointed in the way he was playing. He would definitely get control of the game, especially now that it was back to his service game. Eager to make Fuji share in his pain, Akaya unleashed his knuckle serve.

Again, Fuji defied his expectations. Anticipating that Akaya's play style might take an aggressive turn after his earlier outburst, he stepped so he would be squarely under the ball to return it before it could strike his body. Akaya didn't even attempt to keep the ball in play since he hadn't expected the serve to be returned so quickly and easily. He silently vowed he wouldn't make the same mistake a second time. The knuckle serve was again returned, leading to a brief rally while Akaya attempted to set up a drop shot to score a point. Fuji read his movements and approached the net in synch with Akaya, successfully lobbing it behind the frustrated teen and out of his reach.

"He has absolutely no openings!" Akaya gave a few practice swings of his racket to relieve his mounting tension. If Fuji could read the trick behind the knuckle serve, he would have to overwhelm him with brute force instead and create his own chance balls. He assumed the same stance he used for the knuckle serve, hoping it would lead Fuji into making a false expectation, then launched a flat serve with every ounce of power he could wring from his arm. The _tensai_ still managed to move into position to receive it and, eventually, took the point by hitting it with pinpoint precision just out of Akaya's reach.

Akaya wasn't the only one feeling the strain of the match. Fuji's breathing had quickened considerably and he could feel beads of sweat collecting on the back of his collar despite the cool temperature. Thankfully, it was easy to ignore the physical discomfort in favor of focusing on what to expect next from Akaya-kun. Tennis was as much a mental sport as it was physical. While Akaya's physical prowess had received a boost from this ruthless tint to his personality, it had the unfortunate side effect of making his actions easier to predict. That was why, despite Akaya's tactical use of a one-foot split step to lob the ball into Fuji's court, he was still able to volley it to the opposite corner out of the other player's reach.

"Game, Fuji. Three games to love." Sanada's voice was oddly devoid of judgment. If he was unhappy with the current score, he hid it well. "Change court." The remaining observers clustered around the bench watched the two swap court ends quietly, most wondering how the score had gotten so lopsided to Akaya's detriment.

Fuji was just as surprised by his domination of the match. He rarely felt the need to block his opponent from scoring a single point, yet he had done exactly that for three games in a row now. His usual play style allowed his opponents to gauge the skill level he was playing at, then forced them to stretch to meet him. It usually meant that he would insert certain patterns into his movements, leaving it to the other player to recognize the repetitious techniques and find a way past them. There was something thrilling about watching an opponent grow before his eyes, all the while knowing that he had helped to draw that evolution out of them.

As Fuji twisted his wrist in preparation for another disappearing serve, he recognized that using the same techniques over and over today was not intended to trigger growth within Akaya's tennis. Instead, it was as if Fuji was rewinding a tape and letting the same video clip play in a loop. The glow of frustration in Akaya's eyes burned even hotter as Fuji managed to answer Akaya's split step with a volley that sent the ball just outside of his reach. It was a nearly perfect replication of the previous point. Perhaps this was why he lacked the motivation to achieve victory - repetition became boring when the game was stagnant. Fuji could feel his interest begin to wane. Akaya had awesome potential, but it seemed they both suffered from an inability to break through the ceiling to reach new heights.

"I've found an opening!"

Akaya's abrupt scream was the only warning Fuji had to pull himself out of his thoughts before he felt himself crashing to the ground. He groaned, clutching the back of his head where the tennis ball had collided with it. It had been pure reflex to protect his face that caused him to turn as far as he did, once he saw the way Akaya had directed the ball on an inevitable collision course with his body. Underneath the haze of the throbbing pain, Fuji found himself unwillingly impressed. That smash was more powerful than he assumed Akaya-kun was capable of hitting.

"Akaya!" Sanada roared. Even in bloodshot mode, Akaya knew that he had pushed the _fukubuchou_ to the edge of what behavior he deemed acceptable. The law of Rikkai may have been that defeat was not allowed, but there was an important exception to the cost of victory - teammates should never be deliberately injured. Technically Fuji wasn't part of their team, but they all understood that he was to be treated as such for the purpose of the exercise today. But it felt good to see the annoying _tensai_ on the ground after finally scoring a point. It had really galled him the way Fuji looked like he needed less and less effort to keep up with him. If he could get away with it, he wouldn't mind seeing the Seigaku student on his knees again.

Fuji immediately clenched his eyes shut after briefly blinking them open. His whole head was still vibrating from the force of the blow. Massaging his forehead with one hand, he stretched out the other and swept his fingers along the ground to search for his racket. It was a little embarrassing to get hit by the tennis ball, even though he was certain that Akaya was aiming for him. He'd rather get up and continue the game before any of the observers could inquire about injuries. Fuji pushed himself to his knees, then gradually stood to his full height. First, though, he wanted to look Akaya eye-to-eye and prove that playing dangerously wouldn't intimidate him. He...

Fuji blinked his eyes. They were open, weren't they? He blinked them again, just to be sure. He could feel the faint tickling of his eyelashes brushing against his hand as he opened and closed his lids. Throughout the rapid eye movement, a perpetual gloom shrouded his vision. This was not the impenetrable darkness of the night sky absent the twinkling lights of stars high overhead - it was more of an opaque gray, as if he was caught in a thick bank of fog. He continued blinking, hoping to clear the sickly color from his sight, but it stubbornly persisted.

_I...I can't see._

The thought struck hard and fast like a blow to the gut rather than the head. He had never been one to suffer from claustrophobia, but the suffocating blindness triggered a roiling panic that he struggled not to react to. This was terrible. He had made the mistake of lowering his guard, and as a result his vision was impaired. There was no way of knowing how long he would be in this condition. The logical course of action would be to let his hosts know of his sudden disability so that they could stop the game. Surely, no one would blame him for stopping prematurely if he was incapable of seeing how his opponent was moving or where the ball was coming from.

However, there was a spark deep within Fuji's competitive spirit he couldn't ignore that was urging him to continue playing anyway. On a superficial level, he hated to look weak. Forfeiting the match, even for a legitimate reason, would be too much like giving up. He would feel ashamed of not pushing himself until the last point was decided, even if he never returned another of Akaya's shots. He owed Yukimura that much as well, for making an extraordinary gesture of faith in his potential.

Fuji was also driven by the knowledge that he had passed the point of no return by coming to Rikkai today. It might stay quiet for a little while, but eventually the news of his trip and Yukimura's offer would trickle back to his teammates. He imagined that the betrayal they felt would be immense, both for entertaining the idea of abandoning them as well as not trusting them enough to share his plans with them.

No, Fuji had no choice but to continue. Since he had come this far, he would finish the match one way or another. As long as he took it one step at a time, he should be fine. Fuji once joked that they practiced serving so much that he could do it in his sleep. He would get a chance - somewhat - to test that theory now. Standing a bit behind where he thought the baseline was located, Fuji slipped a ball out of his pocket and prepared a straightforward slice serve. At least he could be thankful that his hair was loose enough to block the worst of the unfocused haze in his eyes from the view of the Rikkai bench.

"What kind of serve is that?" Akaya mocked, wasting no time in smashing the ball past Fuji. The _tensai_ maintained a neutral expression, even as a second and third point were similarly scored against his weakened serve.

Akaya smirked victoriously, but the prevailing mood of the observers was one of confusion. After Fuji had decisively dominated the first three games, it seemed absurd for him to have his service game broken so easily. "That brat," Marui said lightly, "he was just holding back after all. I can't believe he made us worry like that." Nioh agreed with a smug "Puri".

In the center of the group, Yukimura's smile darkened.

On the court, the tables had turned. Akaya led with his knuckle serve, clipping Fuji in the shoulder on the first serve. Fuji managed to dodge the second shot and swing his racket, but it was wildly off the mark. "What's wrong, _tensai_ -san?" Akaya taunted. "Can't you hit the ball anymore?" Fuji gritted his teeth and prepared for the next serve. He fingers clenched with excitement when he felt the ball bump the rim of his racket, but there was no power behind the movement. The sound of the ball bouncing off to his right was a grim reminder that the game would go nowhere unless he could hit it back across the net at a decent angle. Or rather any angle at all, considering he was forced to dodge another knuckle serve lest he risk adding to his injury.

As the two changed courts, Fuji kept his head down and eyes closed. It was his service game again, and he needed to form some type of strategy that would keep him from getting blown away. Akaya was consistently returning the disappearing serve now, so that wasn't an option. Using another ball from his pocket, he decided to start with a flat serve. He could tell by Akaya's reaction that it cleared the net as tightly as he had hoped, but it wasn't good enough for a service ace. "That doesn't have nearly the speed that Yanagi-sempai's serve does!" Akaya called out as he returned it.

Fuji jogged over to where he heard the ball hit the fence and managed to pick it up without fumbling too badly. He tossed the ball into the air, switching back to a familiar topspin slice. Akaya found that serve to be less than threatening. "What are you, a beginner?" he said mockingly. Fuji felt a rush of air as the ball was smashed past him. He wondered if the miss was intentional or if he was just lucky not to have been hit again. Fuji's next flat serve was followed by the sound of the ball dropping in front of the net. Without his sight, he had no idea that Akaya intended to score the point with a drop shot. Again, he managed to retrieve the ball based on where he thought he heard it land.

Fuji gave the flat serve one more shot, hoping he could imbue it with enough power to make it past Akaya. He heard it bounce, then a lull that seemed to stretch forever. He was starting to feel his hopes rise that he had finally scored a point when the tell-tale thump of the ball slapping against racket strings echoed around the court. Fuji had no way of knowing, but Akaya had waited until the ball approached the baseline on its bounce, resulting in a high ball that he could once again smash. Fuji had no chance of keeping up with it.

"Game, Kirihara. Three games all."

"So, he couldn't hold out against Akaya after all." Yagyu declared after Sanada announced the score. "Pity, but that's the consequence of a serious match."

Yukimura rested a finger on his chin. "Yanagi, what do you think?" The data master sighed before responding. "Something is not right." Yukimura nodded, silently agreeing. He had thought something was wrong when Fuji started suddenly playing with such timidity in his second service game. Before he was struck by the tennis ball, he had been dominating the match. It logically followed that the downturn in his playing was related to Akaya's attack. He may not have known Fuji through much else than reputation, but Yukimura doubted he was the type to give into fear from a little physical contact.

If he had been Fuji's opponent, it might not have been so strange for the _tensai_ to fall apart so dramatically. His teammates had assured him on more than one occasion that the yips he inspired (when every effort his opponents made proved utterly futile against his flawless tennis) were devastating. Akaya was still a child. He would not be able to create that same aura of hopelessness. Therefore, the problem was with Fuji. Yukimura wondered if Fuji was breaking his word after all and treating the match with Akaya as penance for the injury to Tezuka that he still believed he was responsible for worsening.

Akaya rested his racket on his shoulder and smirked knowingly. "You're doing pretty well, Fuji-san, considering you can't see."

The reaction on the Rikkai bench was immediate. Sanada narrowed his eyes while the other two-thirds of the Big Three felt the missing piece of the puzzle slide into place. Nioh and Yagyu held their chins thoughtfully in eerie synchronization on opposite ends of the bench. The bubble Marui had been blowing popped outward as he waved a hand at the court. "Is Akaya serious? Can Fuji really not see anything right now?"

Jackal hummed thoughtfully before answering his friend. "He did get hit in the head pretty hard...it's possible." Sanada snorted. "It's foolish. There's no point in playing a match against a crippled opponent." The _fukubuchou_ folded his arms across his chest and raised his voice to be more easily heard. "Fuji, Akaya! This match is over."

"No!"

Whether it was because they couldn't imagine trying to play tennis while blind or because someone dared to argue with a direct order by Sanada, there was a collective feeling of confusion in the wake of Fuji's outburst. The _tensai_ was mentally kicking himself for having missed the biggest obstacle in his strategy. Even if he could conceal his flawed vision from the spectators until (and assuming if) he could see again, Akaya was too close to fool. He had been aware of how serious Fuji's handicap was the whole time. It would have been easy to give in to the overwhelming frustration he felt and toss his racket to the ground or throw a temper tantrum like Akaya had earlier by kicking the ground, but that wouldn't soothe the raging need that had been ignited.

He wanted to play this match. No, it was more than that. He wanted to win today. He knew with certainty that he had not reached his limit yet, and it was about time he pushed himself to see how far his abilities could stretch. It was a new thrill that he wanted to experience - rather than focus on drawing out his opponent's potential, he could concentrate on his own. The desperation to finish this match, regardless of the outcome, filled Fuji with a drive that he hadn't experienced since Tezuka accepted his offer to play that unsanctioned match against him over a year ago. He wondered if this impulse was what motivated Tezuka to play that day despite the pain in his elbow - this certainty that he would miss out on an amazing experience if he walked away.

"Yukimura-kun, I made a promise to you and Akaya-kun that I would play without holding back. I can still reach farther, and I do not want to break my word by giving up now." Despite his inability to see, his eyes seemed to pierce into those of his audience. "I will not allow myself to forfeit this match!"

The mention of fulfilling a promise to Yukimura resonated in the hearts of the entire Rikkai team. From where he was still standing on the court, Akaya swallowed hard. In one sense, his attack had been a way to keep _his_ promise to Yukimura - the promise that their team would remain undefeated until he could return. He couldn't afford to lose today, so he had acted out of instinct to insure his victory. At the same time, he didn't really want to be the reason that someone else disappointed _buchou_.

Yukimura smiled demurely, as if hearing Akaya's thoughts. He was pleased with the willingness of both players to endure their respective hardships. "You heard Fuji-kun, Akaya. Please continue the match."

Fuji bowed his head in thanks and walked back to the area he thought he had the best chance to hit a return. As he waited, Akaya debated how he should approach the game. Now that Fuji's impaired condition was common knowledge, he would be chastised for playing too aggressively. Or maybe not...Fuji had claimed that he wanted to play without holding back. If that was the case, Akaya would honor his wishes and play his tennis style without restraints.

"Here I go!" he warned, throwing up his knuckle serve. Fuji stepped into the area he heard the bounce and thumped the ball squarely with his racket. A moment later, he heard the ball hit the net and roll back to his feet. He had been so close to returning it! If he had been able to center the ball on his racket a little more, it might have cleared the net. Hope blossoming anew, Fuji crouched down and listened for the next serve. Like the previous serve, he dashed to where he heard the bounce and swung his racket. The sound of the ball bouncing in Akaya's court was only slightly sweeter than Sanada's announcement that the score was now fifteen-all.

Akaya blinked. "He returned it?" He shook his head and retrieved a ball for his next serve. "No way," he muttered to himself. "It was just a fluke."

Except Fuji managed to hit his next serve. Akaya wasn't as surprised as he had been the first time it happened and managed to tap it back across the net. Eyes closed, Fuji waited for it to bounce and used a strong groundstroke to knock it past Akaya. "That's not possible," Akaya said, voice shaking. "It's one thing to hit a serve without looking, but to hit a return without being able to see...it's impossible!" Rather than rely on his knuckle serve, Akaya decided to try and use a flat serve to get the ball past Fuji before he realized where it was, but Fuji caught up to it with a slice that caused the ball to bump the lip of the net and then drop onto the ground.

Only one point from having his serve broken again, Akaya began to freak. A fresh wave of blood flooded his eyes. He would wipe that composed expression off Fuji's face. Despite his shock every time Fuji managed to hit the ball back to him, Akaya persisted in an unusually long rally that ended when he finally succeeded in beating the _tensai_ 's speed. Akaya had every intention to repeat his successful strategy from the last point, but in his haste he misstepped and Fuji managed to hit another slice past him.

"Unbelievable," Marui exclaimed. "How can someone who can't see be able to play like that?"

"He's using his other senses to compensate and accurately return it," Yanagi explained. "Primarily, he is listening and feeling the very presence of the ball as it approaches him."

Jackal shook his head. "Who knew there was a sleeping _tensai_ like him at Seigaku?"

Sanada's eyes flickered down to the top of Yukimura's head. He suspected that their captain knew exactly what Fuji was capable of. He had a nose for sniffing out untapped potential. Every member of the Rikkai team owed their development, at least in part, to their relentless _buchou_. When Yukimura reassured him that he knew what he was doing by inviting a member of a rival school to train with them in such an intimate setting, he trusted Yukimura's foresight and worked diligently to make it a reality. There had been some doubt, which only grew when he suspected Fuji was deliberately wasting his potential after his game fell apart against Akaya, but Yukimura's insight had been correct after all. Sanada could not help but respect Fuji's tenacity to honor his commitments.

Fuji appeared composed on the outside, but internally he was thrumming with elation. He was actually doing it - playing tennis at a level he never thought he would reach. He twisted his wrist in preparation for his specialty underhand serve, but in the opposite direction than usual. The result was a bounce that was different than his earlier disappearing serve, surprising Akaya who had expected it to behave the same way it had before. Fuji switched back to a topspin serve to start off his next point, his smile blossoming a little more with every ball he volleyed back to Akaya. The limits he thought he had...they didn't exist. As long as he could feel the ball, he could control the entire game. It was intoxicating.

Down thirty-love, Akaya was getting jittery again. "This guy...I can't lose to him!" The next time the ball came flying at him, Akaya scraped the rim of his racket across the court surface before swinging up into a lob. The noise disoriented Fuji enough that he missed the return. Thinking that he had found the _tensai_ 's Achilles heel, Akaya made certain that he created even more noise before he hit a lob on the next point. Fuji, however, anticipated the lob this time. He stepped back, then stretched his arm over his head so that he could smash it past Akaya to reach match point.

"Amazing. Akaya couldn't even confuse Fuji with that sound for more than one point." Yagyu nodded in agreement with Marui. "It was one-sided for so long, but this match has truly developed into a fierce battle. Fuji-kun is only one game away from taking the win."

Akaya rubbed his dripping forehead, then dried his hand on the leg of his warm-up pants. Everything he had done to this point - joining Rikkai, defeating the third year _sempai_ , challenging the Big Three and working fiercely to overcome them - all of it felt like it would be a waste if he lost today. This serve...he couldn't afford to let it be broken again. Using brute force, Akaya launched the ball into play and dashed forward. The rally was swift and harsh, but his perseverance paid off as he pushed past Fuji to take an early lead.

Fuji quickly retaliated. With pinpoint precision he returned the ball to one baseline corner, then the opposite for two consecutive points. Relying on his split step, Akaya managed to reach the next ball and hit it faster than Fuji could catch up to make the score thirty-all. _Akaya, you really have amazing mental strength,_ Fuji thought to himself. _If I am going to take this win and rise to a higher level, I'll have to snap your concentration and take complete control of the pace._..

"...now! Tsubame Gaeshi!"

Akaya's eyes widened as he remembered what effect that special move had. "It doesn't bounce," he muttered. "I'll just have to hit it before it lands!" Akaya trained his eyes on the ball above as he executed a flawless lob. Satisfaction turned to horror when he looked back to Fuji, who had approached the net and had his arm extended back for a smash. "Damn it, that was just a decoy! He did it again! Can't I surpass my limits?" he cried desperately.

"I've never seen Akaya play like this," Jackal commented. The team watched as Akaya ran backwards and then spun into a crouch. His racket flew out to the side and propelled the smash back over Fuji's head to hit near the baseline. Fuji stood still, cocking his head in confusion.

What had caught Fuji's attention did not go unnoticed on the Rikkai bench. "Was that...one of Fuji's Triple Counters?"

"The Higuma Otoshi," Yanagi confirmed. "More importantly, Seiichi, Genichiroh...do you see it? Akaya's bloodshot eyes have disappeared." Had he been able to see at the moment, Fuji would have noticed exactly what piqued the interest of the observers - Akaya's gaze was as empty as his own.

Fuji was curious about something else. Had Akaya-kun really managed to perform one of his counters? On the next point, he matched the pace Akaya set until an opportunity arose for him to smash again. Just as before, Akaya unconsciously spun into the stance to execute the Higuma Otoshi. The problem with copying the skills of others is that they are usually aware of their own weaknesses. As soon as his feet touched the ground, Fuji was sprinting back to the baseline. Already in position, it was easy for him to apply a backspin to his return shot and force a deuce.

Akaya automatically prepared his next serve. Rushing to the front, he applied a spin to Fuji's return so that it bounced irregularly and out of his reach. The advantage belonged to him, the server. "I've never seen Akaya play like this," Nioh remarked. "What's going on in his head?"

"Game, Kirihara. Four games to five. Change court." Sanada paused, delighted by how much their rookie was surprising him with each point he took. "Win this game, Akaya!" he ordered. From his position in front of him, Yukimura chuckled. It was amusing how much Sanada secretly liked Akaya and the ways that favoritism manifested.

As he passed by the net, Fuji was wondering why Akaya's movements had suddenly changed. It was unlike anything he'd ever witnessed another player do, almost as if he wasn't consciously controlling his actions. If that was the case, trying to predict his movements or lure him into using a certain response would be futile. Fuji would need to have absolute faith in his instincts. When Akaya responded to his first serve with another ball laden with irregular spin, Fuji didn't worry about how all of his counters had been overcome at some point in the match and hit another Tsubame Gaeshi anyway. His faith was rewarded, as Akaya couldn't reach it before it entered its glide. Instincts couldn't protect him from everything. Fuji was barely able to counter a shot with extremely high speed, but Akaya sealed the point by following up with a drop shot Fuji wasn't prepared to answer.

"Fifteen all. But just now, didn't that look like Yagyu's Laser Beam?" Jackal asked.

"It's not just Fuji-kun," Yagyu remarked. "Akaya is using techniques from all of us, perhaps from any opponent he's ever faced." Marui's indignant squawk, with perhaps a hint of pride, was further evidence that the rookie had copied another of their special skills. Fuji scooped up the ball that had just fallen into his court after bouncing off the pole of the net and walked back to the serving position.

" _Muga no Kyouchi_ ," Sanada explained. When half of his team remained puzzled (and Yanagi and Yukimura made no attempt to assist), he elaborated. "Akaya has achieved the state of self-actualization. His body is reacting based on memories from past experiences before he can think about it. To achieve that perfect state means that he has overcome his limits."

But he wasn't the only one still evolving. Fuji was finding new ways of mixing his Triple Counters with the simpler aspects of his play style to score points. Sometimes it worked, like how he successfully lobbed over Akaya's head after he hit the Hakugei on its reverse bounce. Other times, such as when he miscalculated whether the Tsubame Gaeshi could be reached after a long bout of intricate footwork, meant that he ended up losing the point.

That last mistake was especially costly. "It's Akaya's break point," Yanagi noted. "He's carrying the pressure well."

"So is Fuji-kun," was Yukimura's only response.

Fuji was holding Akaya in a quickly-paced rally. Both had been pushed to the baseline, forcing the other to run back and forth between the opposite ends of the court. Picturing the court in his mind, Fuji shifted the angle of his racket downward. There was no room for a mistake here. His only choice was to follow through with the arm stroke he planned. He held his breath when he clearly heard the sound of the ball smacking into the thick material at the top of the net.

"Deuce!" Sanada called. Fuji clenched his fist victoriously. Aiming for a cord ball was tricky with his sight, but doing it blind had been a pure gamble that (thankfully) paid off.

Fuji led off the next point with a serve and volley, which Akaya again countered with a speed slice. ("Kamaitachi!" Yanagi identified.) Before it could fly out of reach, he rushed to the net and caught it with an unanswered passing stroke.

Somehow, he had finally made it to match point. It was a spectacular sight as Fuji's disappearing serve was tracked and volleyed back, only to be answered with a shallow lob. "That ground smash is Sanada-kun's, isn't it?" Yagyu asked, after Akaya propelled himself into a rotating leap. "It looks that way," Nioh confirmed. As was his habit, Fuji answered the smash with his Higuma Otoshi. He managed to keep the grip on his racket handle firm despite the extra power concealed within the smash, but the gut on his racket was not as fortunate. The strings snapped under the pressure. He had only seconds to flip the racket sideways and weakly return Akaya's next smash with the frame. He crouched low, trying to sense how Akaya would respond to that chance ball.

The clatter of a racket flying into the fence echoed throughout the now silent court.

Sanada watched with a grim smile. "Your grip still isn't strong enough to handle that move yet." In a louder voice, he announced the final score. "Game Set, won by Fuji. Six games to four."

Tucking his racket under his arm, Fuji clenched his closed eyes even tighter and covered his face with his hands. He had won. He, who never felt any motivation for pursuing victory in the face of overwhelming odds, had never felt so elated over winning a match. Fuji lowered his hands, sniffling, and approached the net. He gripped Akaya's palm in a firm handshake, marveling at the calluses that had accumulated on someone so young. It made the win that much more meaningful, that he had beaten a player who worked so hard at improving his game.

There was no warning when he felt Akaya slump into him despite the net between them. Fuji stumbled backwards a few steps before he steadied himself enough to support the weight of both their bodies. The steady noisy breaths he could hear Akaya inhaling through his mouth sent a pang of nostalgia through his heart. Yuuta also used to fall asleep as soon as they finished playing a long match when they were children...although at least his little brother usually waited until he sat down on the players' bench before he drifted off.

"Akaya!" The panicked call was accompanied by the smacking of chewing gum, so Fuji was able to identify at least one of the sets of hands that freed him from the burden of holding Akaya up. "He's alright," he reassured Marui as the four players traveled the short distance to the bench. "He's just sleeping. The match must have taken a lot out of him."

Fuji felt a different hand on his shoulder. He slowly realized that two seats had been opened up on the bench. Akaya was probably occupying one of the spots now, but the other was being offered to him. He dipped his head thankfully and sunk onto the edge of the bench. Now that his body wasn't being pushed, he could feel his own exhaustion creep in. Yet another hand offered him a towel, which he gratefully used to absorb the sweat drenching his face, neck and hair.

"Fuji-kun, would you like us to escort you to the hospital? You really should have your eyes and head looked at after that injury."

Fuji pulled the towel off his head and squinted. There was still some lingering pain, but colors were gradually creeping into his vision. Rather than the thick fog immediately following the blow to his head, it now felt like he was trying to look at a room through an exceptionally large cobweb. "That's alright; it seems to be clearing up. I think the rest from closing my eyes for the second half of the game helped."

"To beat Akaya, even though he couldn't see..." a deep voice murmured.

Fuji felt the need to correct the speaker. "Actually, it was because I couldn't see that I won. My senses became sharper, and I finally had the motivation to break through my limits." He smiled gently. "I hope Akaya-kun wakes up soon. I feel like there's quite a bit I need to thank him for."

Nioh snickered, muttering to Marui how it was the brat's luck to have someone thank him for injuring them. Yukimura held his hand up and stopped that conversation before the pair started making plans to tease Akaya too badly. The team glanced back and forth (some more surreptitiously than others) as Yukimura and Sanada seemed to silently debate whether they should take Fuji's word about the rate at which his sight was improving. Sanada worried about the deceptively delicate-looking player suffering a permanent injury, but the less time Yukimura was stuck at a hospital the better. Since Fuji didn't seem like the type to martyr himself, Sanada concluded he was telling the truth and would quickly recover.

"Jackal, why don't you show Fuji where we have our water fountains? He must be thirsty after all that." Yukimura glanced over a piece of paper handed to him by Yanagi, then nodded. "If your vision is better by the time you come back, are you still interested in a doubles match, Fuji-kun?"

"Of course," he answered. "I should be ready to play in a few minutes."

"Then we'll continue in ten minutes." Yukimura paused, and tugged Fuji's arm so that he would turn back around to face him as he stood. "It was good to see you play without holding back, Fuji-kun. I hope you continue to do the same."

Fuji was confident that he would fulfill the wish Yukimura had just expressed. Like a bird after experiencing its first flight, he couldn't imagine ever being grounded again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Makeshift doubles! Well, for Fuji at least. Who will be his opponents...and who will be his partner?


	5. Doubles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Makeshift doubles! Well, for Fuji at least. Who will be his opponents...and who will be his partner?

_January 22, 2006_

A fallen blossom never returns to the branch.

The wise adage could somewhat describe his infirm physical condition, but Fuji thought the westernized version of the proverb more accurately applied to him right now - you never know a good thing until it's gone. As Fuji stumbled again on the stairs while he followed alongside Jackal, he quietly thanked the good fortune he was blessed with. He grew up with nearly perfect eyesight, never needing to worry about glasses, contacts, or any other corrective eye wear. He had also grown up with a fluidity and confidence to his movements that could only result from an active childhood spent pursuing one form of athletics or another.

Realizing how much he had grown dependent on those two combined traits when one was no longer present was a rude awakening. The way that objects blurred and shifted in and out of shadows - both natural and those induced by his impaired vision - was downright disorienting. If Fuji had even the slightest idea of where he was walking, he would have closed his eyes the moment they reached level ground to allow them to rest again. Since he didn't, and Sanada's description of the major landmarks around the tennis courts hadn't mentioned where the fountains were, Fuji's self-preservation instincts (and his natural curiosity) motivated him to keep his eyes open through the haze.

His guide was surprisingly patient about matching Fuji's pace and never showed any irritation if he momentarily lagged behind. When they slowed in front of a long stone-looking monument, Fuji was pleased that he could distinguish metal faucets mounted horizontally along the fountain at chest-height. Fuji turned the handle to the closest faucet with a _squeak_ and tested the temperature of the water as it began to fall. "Jackal-kun, thank you for showing me the way." Fuji scrubbed the grime of grip tape flecks from his hands. He thought about dunking his head under the water, but decided it was too cold out to have his hair dripping with anything other than sweat.

"Just Jackal is fine," was the reply. The tall boy glanced to the side, a wry smile on his lips. "And don't worry about it. Between Akaya and Marui, I end up doing this sort of thing a lot." Fuji tilted his head so that he could catch the water in his mouth, wondering what Jackal meant by "this sort of thing". Did he look after them merely as their friend? A chaperone? A babysitter? Some combination of the three? One thing was certain, Fuji decided as he wiped a few stray drops of water from his mouth. In any of those relationships, trust was a necessity. If his teammates trusted him that much, he must indeed be a kind soul. Fuji hoped he would be able to count him among his friends one day.

Trust did not always depend on kindness. Fuji straightened from where he was hunched over the fountain and squinted in the direction Jackal was gazing. Back at the courts, he could make out several yellow blurs in a cluster. Most of them were moving, but the one in the center never budged. After studying the huddle for a few moments, Fuji noticed that the other blurs never strayed too far from that central, immovable blur that Fuji assumed was the Rikkai _buchou_. It was amusing to watch, like a living model of the solar system. Much like the way the sun's gravitational field was responsible for trapping objects in its orbit, the loyalty Yukimura inspired helped to form the backbone of the Rikkai team. His charismatic personality attracted strong players, and they responded when he demanded they continue to climb to new heights. That was a trust born from admiration and respect.

Fuji wondered if he, too, had gotten caught up in Yukimura's gravitational pull when they spoke in September and it was that force that drove him to seek Yukimura out when he heard about his hospitalization.

That reminded him... "Jackal, after the conversation we had in December, I wasn't expecting to see Yukimura-kun around the courts today. Has his condition improved that much?"

Jackal shook his head. "Not really. He can attend classes frequently enough that he's not in danger of needing to repeat the school year, but he still has to go to the hospital a lot for different tests." Fuji quietly bobbed his head to show that he understood, but it was only a superficial understanding. From what he heard, Yukimura's illness was life-threatening. To only be thirteen, yet have to fear whether death was around the corner, was incredibly frightening. It was scary enough to stand by and watch someone his age battle an unknown sickness, knowing that his life was on the line. Fuji realized that he hoped Jackal would have been able to share better news because he sincerely wanted Yukimura to get well.

A sudden sea breeze blew against Fuji's back, causing his clothes to stick to his skin. He rolled his shoulders to try and throw off the uncomfortable feeling, but he knew he would need to be much more active to get it to stop. Now would be a good time to walk back and get the next match under way. "Shall we head back?" he asked, tightening the spigot one last time to make sure the water was off. Jackal nodded and took the lead again.

The walk back was just as quiet as the walk over. Fuji's eyesight was almost back to normal, but he still managed to hear a commotion break out on the courts before he saw it. He also heard Jackal sigh. Realizing exactly who was at the center of the fuss, Fuji chuckled. It looked like he needed to add 'referee' to the list he was mentally drafting that outlined the different jobs he suspected Jackal served on the Rikkai team.

Akaya was awake and hopping around, viciously lunging toward Marui every time the redhead opened his mouth. With certain words being emphasized over others, such as _brag_ , _tensai_ , and _lose_ , it wasn't hard to figure out what subject Marui was teasing Akaya about. Jackal quickened his pace to a jog, physically keeping the two separate before the taunting turned violent.

Everything Fuji had learned about Akaya, both today and back at the hospital, indicated that the boy had a temper on a hair-trigger. You could risk your life by provoking him, or trying to restore peace once he was wound up. Even though the number of words they exchanged was slight, Fuji didn't want to see Jackal suffer because of something that ultimately led back to his actions.

"Akaya-kun, you're awake!" Fuji's voice was bright and cheerful, successfully grabbing Akaya's attention away from the target of his vengeance. "I wanted to thank you for such a fun game! You played even better than you said you would." The compliment was completely genuine, which surprised more than one person that overhead it.

"I still lost," Akaya responded sullenly, eyes darting to Yukimura as if he expected to be yelled at any minute now. Yukimura just smiled, hands folded demurely in his lap. "You demonstrated a valuable technique today, Akaya. If you manage to hone that skill, I think we can overlook your loss. Just this once." A hint of how distasteful a second loss would be viewed was palpable underneath the congenial tone of his final words. Fuji felt the urge to shiver (blaming the sea breeze that had kicked up again), but Akaya seemed content with the verdict. He and Marui raced for the open seats on either side of their _buchou_ just as the remainder of the Rikkai team rejoined them from where they had been quietly discussing something in a huddle.

"Yukimura," Sanada said, "are we ready?" The bluenette deflected the question by looking to Fuji, who nodded affirmatively. Sanada likewise turned to Yanagi, who stepped forward and took control. Fuji wondered exactly what it was that they had in mind.

"Fuji, do you have much doubles experience?" Fuji inclined his head, considering the question. "Some. A decent amount, I guess." He stared directly at Yanagi, wondering why he was asking such a basic question that a data master should already know the answer to. "Our regulars usually rotate through doubles since Seigaku has struggled to put together strong pairs."

Yanagi nodded. "Yes, we had gathered as much." He folded his arms, reciting the next series of facts as easily as if he was reading them from a book. "Tezuka is clearly a singles player. You have a strong reputation for being a singles player, although you occasionally play doubles. Typically, you are placed in doubles at tournaments with low stakes. Even though he has a..." Yanagi cleared his throat uncomfortably, "long and successful background in doubles, I suspect that Sadaharu is also more suited as a singles player."

"The only doubles pairing that consistently shows results for Seigaku is the Golden Pair. However, based on last year's roster, there is no indication that Seigaku can produce another team to fill the second doubles slot on the roster."

Fuji thought of the two first years that had already earned a Regular spot. It was possible that their rivalry could one day evolve into a successful partnership, but relying on such a volatile relationship was risky. There were other players that stood a chance at joining the Regulars by the start of the next season, particularly the gentle Taka-san who Fuji had occasionally paired with during practice, but no one that was naturally suited for doubles.

"The Seigaku ranking matches don't promote doubles skills," Fuji admitted. "When your position is based on the outcome of a series of singles matches, it shouldn't be a surprise that the squad ends up with more strong singles players than doubles. We're lucky that our Golden Pair is strong enough to stand on their own, or Seigaku might not have any doubles pairs to rely on."

Yukimura looked pleased that Fuji had shared that much information. None of what he said was confidential - reporters as well as scouts from other schools regularly showed up during the ranking tournaments and could reach the same conclusions - but Fuji had exposed his insight as much as Rikkai had exposed theirs. If neither side had been willing to open up, nothing would have been accomplished. Instead, a little honesty had ensured that both sides benefited from the experience.

"Doubles or singles should be irrelevant," Sanada declared, in the tone of an often-repeated argument. "The changes between the two games are minor. A good tennis player should be able to do both."

" _Minor_ differences, are they?" Nioh interrupted. "Doubles isn't just having two singles games going on at the same court, _fukubuchou_." Sanada looked both angry and embarrassed by Nioh's insinuation that he wasn't able to work cohesively with a doubles partner.

Yanagi rescued both of them by putting a stop to Nioh's banter before it could spiral out of control. "Certainly, there are differences between the two skill sets. However, a truly skilled player should be competent in both styles. Doubles tennis is a game of precision rather than brute power. It also requires control of the net, usually through serve and volley. All of those skills can be just valuable in a singles game."

"Fuji," Yanagi said, "your style seems to revolve around staying at the baseline so that you can prepare your counters. For our doubles match, we'll pair you with someone with a style that compliments yours." Yanagi glanced around and settled on the sole individual wearing glasses. "As a skilled volleyer, Yagyu should fulfill that criteria. You should use the next few minutes to discuss strategies. Nioh and I will do the same as well as warm up."

Said Trickster, who had almost been cornered by an annoyed Sanada, grinned and slipped around him until he was safe beside Yanagi. Sanada snorted at the juvenile show of defiance and walked back to his spot behind Yukimura at the bench.

Fuji turned to the player nominated to be his partner. "It looks like we'll be playing with each other again, Yagyu-kun," he commented, "just on the same side of the net this time." Yagyu nodded politely, but Fuji thought the gesture was a little warmer than it had been earlier in the morning. He took it as a sign that he had earned a little bit of the other boy's respect.

"Fuji-kun, are you sure you don't need to visit the hospital?" The tone of the question called to mind the earlier inquiry about his health. Fuji realized that it must have been Yagyu that asked whether he wanted to have a professional look over his injury after the match had finished.

The whole situation was a curious mix of contradictions. If these people had known him better, someone might have recognized more quickly that his sudden timidity was a product of a true injury and not just fear of being attacked by the hands of his opponent. Yet, if they _had_ known him better, Fuji probably wouldn't have felt the same urge to finish the match. Even though the opponent was now different, he could feel that same rush of adrenaline begin to pump throughout his body.

"I really am fine," he reassured Yagyu. "I'm more worried about what to expect from Yanagi and Nioh."

Yagyu's eyes flicked over to where the pair was warming up on the adjacent court. "Yanagi-kun will want to spend the first few games testing us before they attack in earnest. Nioh-kun is both a southpaw and an all-rounder, much like your Tezuka-kun from what I understand." Yagyu adjusted the frames of his glasses. "Yanagi-kun's style is surprisingly similar to your own; he prefers to act as a counter-puncher. But where you rely on instinct, his counter-attacks are dependent on intellect and instantaneous calculations."

"Mm, I know that style well," Fuji wryly admitted. Aside from the counter-puncher part, Yagyu might as well have been describing Inui's data tennis style. It wasn't much of a shock. Although Inui rarely allowed it to come up in conversation, Fuji was aware that he and Yanagi had played doubles during their elementary school years. It would have been more unusual if their play style didn't have something in common after they developed side-by-side. It would be interesting to see if Yanagi had any better luck capturing Fuji's data than his former partner.

"Yanagi-kun already knows your strength at the baseline." Yagyu commented, unknowingly echoing Fuji's thoughts. "Are you comfortable at the net?" Fuji nodded. Yagyu took that information into consideration. "I usually play at the net in doubles, but we might be able to keep them off-balance if we both stay at the net during my serve. Unless we signal otherwise, you can catch the lobs with your speed on a forward-back dash. When it's your serve, you can stay at the baseline and I'll control the front. Does that sound like a valid strategy to use until they figure out the pattern, Fuji-kun?"

Fuji could see Yanagi bent over as he tied his shoe and Nioh approaching them, so it seemed they were out of time to strategize whether they were ready or not. Luckily, Fuji trusted that Yagyu could accurately predict his teammates' habits. "Sounds like a plan, Yagyu-kun."

"Hey, Yagyu," Nioh said, drawing out the name to both annoy the Gentleman and emphasize the lacking honorific, "Yanagi said you should serve first."

"As you wish, Nioh-kun," Yagyu replied. "In that case, I'll serve with everything in my power." Fuji noticed that the Gentleman's lips quirked into a small smile before smoothing back into impassivity.

Nioh must have noticed the same, for they could hear him laugh even though he turned his back to them. "This should be even more interesting than I thought."

Once again, Sanada dispensed with the formalities. "One set match, Yagyu to serve."

Up at the net, Fuji sensed Yagyu's serve blow past him rather than see it. He hadn't been exaggerating when he said he had experience at the net. Although he didn't prefer that spot, he was used to playing very close to the net when he was the server's partner. Situated in the opposite ad court a little further away from the net, Nioh comfortably returned the serve back to Yagyu. Yanagi remained in the rear of the court, no doubt observing the movements of all three players and beginning to calculate which reactions were by chance and which were the product of habit. Chance movements were variables that could potentially spoil a data tennis player's calculations, but habits were the bread-and-butter of their style. If you could crack the code of a player's habits, setting traps and winning points became child's play.

Yagyu managed to approach the net and win the first point with little help from his partner. Nonetheless, Fuji could feel Nioh's eyes tracking his movements just as closely as Yanagi in the rear. He finally got his racket on a ball returned by Yanagi, neatly knocking it outside Nioh's reach.

No, that wasn't entirely true. If Nioh had hustled, he could probably have returned Fuji's shot. Yagyu was correct - Nioh wasn't putting much effort into the game at this point. Fuji wouldn't go so far as to say that Yanagi and Nioh were throwing this game away, but clearly they were concentrating on reading their opponents rather than winning points. He also had the feeling that Nioh wanted to get a feel for Fuji's special moves - for his own sake as well as Yanagi's data. That suspicion made Fuji clamp down and refrain from using them even more. Seeing them used in a game while you were observing was one thing, but countering a counter requires practice. As long as he saved them for when he absolutely needed them, they had a higher chance of taking his opponent by surprise.

There was little chatter as returns were exchanged and the scores crept upward. Yanagi was moving closer to the net with more regularity, but he generally stayed at the baseline unless he felt Nioh needed the support at the net. They managed to steal two points from Yagyu and Fuji, but Fuji managed to seal the first game with a well-timed poach in front of Yagyu. The atmosphere was seemingly subdued as they swapped courts, but the flame of competition burned hot underneath the quiet.

Nioh took control of the serve for his team's first service game. Much like Yanagi, Fuji spent a large proportion of the game studying his opponents. Often, Fuji's true talent was in reading his opponents - what type of shot they were going to use and where they were going to move to receive the next ball. He didn't have the same familiarity with the Rikkai team as Yagyu did, so he was forced to learn their styles from scratch. Neither player was making it easy on him. With his partner as the server, Yanagi was pressing the front and controlling the game by dominating the net. Nioh was particularly difficult to read, opting to hover in the back and let his partner control the flow of the game. His play style was looking rather bland, which Fuji took to mean that the Trickster was also saving his best tricks for later in the game.

Yagyu and Fuji managed to stop their opponents from shutting them out completely, but they still dropped the game. Fuji was happy, despite the game count evening out at one-all. He and Yagyu had managed to develop a good rapport. Twice, Fuji was able to pinpoint a difficult spot for either member of the serving team to hit back strongly. When the ball returned, Yagyu was ready with his volley at the net to score a point.

In what felt like no time at all, it was Fuji's turn to serve. He rocked backward, glancing over to check where Yagyu was positioned at the net, then let the ball fly. The first point became a battle between Yanagi and Fuji; Yanagi going so far as to lob it over Yagyu's head when it appeared that he was going to poach in order to end the play. The decision ended up being his undoing, as Fuji chose to pull out the Tsubame Gaeshi from his bag of tricks. Having drawn both their opponents to one side of the court, it was an easy point. On the next point, Fuji aimed his serve closer to the middle than the alleys. Nioh answered by hitting it back across the net before it ever had a chance to bounce.

What followed was a spectacular volley battle between Nioh and Yagyu. Yagyu's movements were crisper - cleaner, even - but Nioh was quick enough to match the Gentleman stride for stride for nearly a dozen hits. Yagyu eventually won that battle, and Nioh repositioned himself in preparation for the next ball.

So far, Fuji had stayed at the baseline during his service game. The key to controlling this match, at least against a strategist like Yanagi, was to make yourself unpredictable. On the next serve, Fuji angled the ball out in front of him and was soon dashing forward to join Yagyu at the net. The decision allowed them to score one easy point, but they lost the next using a similar tactic.

Fuji began a third straight serve-and-volley, anticipating that Yanagi would again lob behind the pair at the net to try and score a point. Sure enough, Yanagi's lob soared through the air following an attempted smash by Yagyu. Fuji was prepared for the shot. Using the same speed that had been so effective against Akaya, Fuji sprinted backwards and sliced the ball directly down the center of the court for the game point.

As the two pairs swapped courts again, Yagyu and Fuji had a chance to discuss how the game was proceeding. "Well?" Fuji asked.

"Yanagi-kun is annoyed with Nioh," Yagyu revealed bluntly. "Nioh was probably supposed to draw you into an additionally rally or two, but I've managed to keep his attention on me." Fuji chuckled. He _had_ noticed the occasional glare that Yanagi directed at Nioh. Yagyu was very successful at controlling the net play. Not only was he setting up opportunities to score points, but he was preventing Yanagi from collecting his precious data on Fuji. It wasn't exactly Fuji's intention to use Yagyu as a smoke screen for his play style, but he was pleased with the side effect.

"Nioh-kun was playing, ah, stiffly," Fuji commented. Although he struggled to put his observation into words, Yagyu understood what he meant. "He's deliberately switching between playing styles to try and confuse us," Yagyu explained. "The two I've recognized are both technically sound, but otherwise dull. Now that we're a few games into the match, he'll start to loosen up."

Unfortunately for them, Nioh didn't get much of a chance to show off in the next game. Yanagi maintained strict control of his service game, managing to move his opponents around the court as if they were merely pawns on a chessboard. The third point of that game was particularly frustrating. The Master, it seemed, was verifying the limits of Fuji's left-right dash. He successfully drew Fuji, at the baseline, behind Yagyu, still at the net, and then aimed his successive shot at the unguarded tramline before either player could cover the open side of the court.

"Sorry," Fuji muttered to Yagyu, taking full blame for the mistake. He felt frustrated with the way they were getting pushed around all of a sudden. They needed to interrupt the flow of the game that Yanagi had constructed. The next time that Yanagi sliced the ball into Fuji's defense zone, he responded with a cross-court lob. Nioh handled the overhead return of that ball despite the awkwardness of the stance needed to accomplish that, but Yagyu was ready with a poach to finally score their pair a point. That point saved them from the stigma of a love game, but not the loss.

The domination of the Yanagi-Nioh pair continued for the first few points of Yagyu's service game. Fuji briefly considered whether Yagyu was throwing the game, but the steely glint in his eyes (magnified by his glasses) convinced him otherwise. They were being outplayed, as Fuji was uncomfortably reminded as he failed to move quickly enough to receive another of Nioh's returns. As Yagyu had predicted, Nioh's play style had drastically changed. Fuji was already starting to read the new tells - how he would shift his weight to the right before dashing left for a poach or how he adjusted his grip upward in preparation for a smash volley. The real question was if Fuji could use that information before Nioh switched styles again and it became necessary to learn another set of tells.

Fuji abruptly turned his back to the net and slowly walked to the baseline. Catching Yagyu's eye, he held up two fingers in front of his chest and mouthed the word 'alley'. Yagyu's head lowered fractionally, acknowledging that he understood Fuji's request. After his next serve, Yagyu hit two consecutive balls that forced Nioh and Yanagi to defend their respective alleys. When the ball entered their court for a third time, Fuji poached and knocked the ball directly up the center.

They repeated variations of this tactic twice more before Yanagi compensated for the hole. Testing how teams reacted to shots down the center between them was a fairly basic tactic, but effective. Since Nioh was playing left-handed in the ad court, the alleys were better protected with the forehand of both players. A shot down the center not only forced them out of position, but it required them to use a backhand stroke. Although it wasn't as devastating as it would be to a novice player, any little advantage could be the deciding factor in an evenly-matched game such as this.

On the next point, Fuji decided he had stayed at the baseline long enough. He positioned himself at the net, waiting for Nioh to return the serve. Nioh sliced the ball lower than usual, and Fuji instinctively stepped back as the ball hit the net and popped up over their heads. He rushed back to the baseline, swapping positions with Yagyu, but his haste was unnecessary. The ball landed outside the court, handing Yagyu and Fuji an inelegant win and a tentative lead in the overall game count.

Swapping courts again should have been a good time to reevaluate their strategy, but Fuji was too lost in his thoughts to engage Yagyu in serious conversation. Nioh's last shot had behaved much like the first part of the Hakugei, minus the part where Fuji's shot landed on top of the baseline rather than out. It could have been a coincidence, but Fuji didn't like the idea of another player using the techniques he developed. Thanks to his Muga no Kyouchi, Akaya had already successfully copied the Higuma Otoshi. There was more to his tennis than the Triple Counters, but it was the counters that he was most proud of. It was bad enough that all three had been broken. If other players could copy them merely by observing him, Fuji worried he would lose part of himself.

Taking comfort in his service game, Nioh had opted to switch playing styles once again. He was sprinting forward to the net in a classic serve and volley, hitting Yagyu's return past Fuji's left side before they could adjust to the new formation. Fuji grimly smiled. When he received Nioh's next serve, Fuji pinpointed his return at Nioh's foot. The ball bounced between his legs and out of the court before the Trickster could skid to a stop. The score remained even - Yanagi managing to out-shoot Yagyu when he was the receiver and Fuji practically tripping Nioh with his pinpoint return - until it was game point for the Yanagi-Nioh pair. Nioh persisted with the serve-and-volley style...at least, that's what it appeared he had chosen. When Fuji again took aim near Nioh's foot for his return, Nioh opted to jump over the ball rather than challenge Fuji's return directly. Yanagi had dashed into position behind Nioh, prepared with his high-speed slice, Kamaitachi, which blew past Fuji before he could position his racket for the return.

"Buchou," Akaya suddenly whined, "this is boring! Why is Yanagi-sempai playing around? He should have been able to beat Yagyu-sempai and that Fuji by now." Yukimura patted Akaya's leg sympathetically, but his eyes remained locked on the court.

"In this game, the scoreboard is not the only measure by which to judge the winner of the match, Akaya." On the Rikkai pair's side, Nioh was cycling through a series of hand signals until Yanagi nodded his approval. Yukimura's eyes gleamed with recognition. "Besides, watching this type of match could help your doubles play. You still have room to grow, and you won't always be put in singles, you know."

"Three games all!"

Sanada's voice booming across the court shook Fuji back to reality after staring at the invisible course the ball had flown through. Akaya's imitation of the technique paled in comparison to the original. Yanagi's special high-speed slice was truly impressive.

They were back to Fuji's service game. Hoping for a quick point, Fuji decided to shake things up with his Disappearing Serve. However, tricking a Trickster wasn't that simple. Nioh returned the serve with only a little difficulty, then kept Fuji in a rally at the baseline. Yagyu edged close to the ball's trajectory a few times, leaving their opponents to wonder if he was going to go in for the poach, but Fuji could tell by the clenched fist behind his back that it was a fake. When the fingers popped out to reveal an open palm, Fuji moved in from the baseline to cover the spot Yagyu vacated during his real poach. Yanagi managed to return the ball, which Yagyu redirected toward Nioh who was still trapped at the baseline. Nioh tried to hit a cross-court lob over Fuji's head, but the trajectory was low enough for Fuji to smash volley in front of Nioh for the point.

By the time they reached game point, Fuji was breathing heavily. The game had progressed well, between Yagyu utilizing the fake poach with hand signals to superb results and Fuji covering the open spaces and handling the overhead shots down the middle, but it had been physically taxing. He wasn't sure if Yanagi's goal was to steal points or just exhaust their opponents so that their play would deteriorate for the remainder of the match. Just to keep them on their toes, Fuji answered a return of Nioh's with a slice that skipped off the edge of the net and hit the baseline hard. Yanagi was too far in the opposite alley to chase down the Hakugei on its return path to Fuji's hand, and thankfully Nioh was too intrigued at watching the technique up close to correctly judge the speed of the backspin.

Yagyu raised a questioning eyebrow to Fuji as they exchanged courts. He shrugged in reply. "It seemed like a good time to remind them of my counters," he explained.

"I doubt they had forgotten about them, Fuji-kun."

Fuji's smile took on a sheepish tint, but he made no further apologies for his decision. The chance of either Nioh or Yanagi breaking the Hakugei was much higher now, but they had earned a point without unnecessarily tiring themselves out again. He thought it was a fair trade-off.

Yanagi's service game went as miserably the second time around as it had the first. He wasn't sure whose idea it was, but Yanagi was using a tactic similar to what Fuji had used with success against Nioh during his serve and volley. After drawing Fuji forward to the net, Yanagi was aiming precise volleys at his feet. Recognizing the sharp angles the ball was traveling along didn't mean he could defend against them any easier - his wrists simply weren't flexible enough to twist the way necessary to return the ball. It might have been easier to use his foot to try and kick the ball over the net.

Fuji gritted his teeth. If that wasn't bad enough, the one time that he had been able to return the ball, Nioh appeared in front of the net and hit it past him on top of the tramline. No matter how many times Yagyu and Fuji tried to hit a subsequent shot that would level the playing field and generate an opportunity for them to attack later, the point would be taken from them with relative ease. Fuji did not enjoy the feeling of losing the first love game of the match.

For as much as the game was called a doubles match, it turned into a two-on-one skirmish during Yagyu's next service game. The Gentleman hadn't abandoned Fuji, thankfully, but there was no way for him to safely intercede when Fuji was trapped at the net with balls being volleyed directly at him. One after another, the balls came. There was no time to attempt to score a point or even lob volley to force a lull in the action - he was fighting just to keep the ball in play. If he hadn't been the target, Fuji might have been impressed with the amount of pressure Yanagi and Nioh were capable of putting on a receiver when they worked together.

But turnabout is fair play. Since Yanagi had used one of Fuji's strategies, Fuji thought it was about time he borrowed one of Nioh's. Before Yagyu tossed up his next serve, Fuji tucked his free hand behind his back and pointed his index finger down at the ground. He heard the ball bounce once on the ground before Yagyu launched it into play. Fuji hoped that it was a signal that meant Yagyu understood what he had in mind. There was a shuffling of feet behind him as Yagyu crossed to the center of the court, which gave Fuji hope.

The next time Nioh pegged the ball at him, Fuji lowered his racket...and ducked.

Yagyu, who had kept moving until he was directly behind Fuji, took advantage of the ball's perfect trajectory as it moved at the shoulder-height of the shorter player. Crouched on the ground, Fuji felt a blast of air as the ball whizzed over him and down the center line of the opposing court. Nioh and Yanagi both looked surprised at Yagyu's shot. Fuji wondered why, so he turned to his partner for an answer.

"Laser Beam," Yagyu declared, pushing his glasses further up on the bridge of his nose. When Fuji continued to stare, he elaborated on his explanation to the silent question. "It seemed like a good time to remind them of _my_ technique."

Ah. Fuji nodded his head, acknowledging both the impressive shot Yagyu had developed and the cheeky way his words had been handed back to him.

The momentum stayed with Yanagi and Fuji after that point. Yanagi and Nioh persisted in making Fuji the target of their attacks, but the pressure dropped. Yanagi appeared not to want to fall prey to the Laser Beam a second time, so his attention was divided between his opponents. The one time that he tried to renew the double pressure, Fuji signaled to his partner to take over. The high-speed passing shot ended the rally just as effectively as it had the first time. For having started the game down two points, Yagyu quickly wrapped up his service game.

"This is going to go to a tiebreak, isn't it?" Fuji asked lightly as they swapped courts for the fifth time.

"Most likely," Yagyu confirmed. "Unless we can break Nioh-kun's serve here, that leaves us with winning your service game and Yanagi's service game to end the match before tiebreak." He sighed. "We haven't come close to breaking Yanagi's service game. Since I suspect that they want to enter a tie-break as much as we do, you can expect that they'll be especially aggressive next game to try and break your serve."

Fuji nodded, pinching two strands of his racket's gut together. A win right now would end the match in their favor at six games to four. Dropping this game could equal their defeat. It was a lot of pressure for a makeshift doubles pair.

"Do you have any ideas?" Fuji asked. Yagyu considered the question, then beckoned Fuji to move closer.

The pair that broke from the huddle was visibly more confident than they had been before they moved together. Fuji walked forward until he was only a racket length from the net, splitting the distance between the tramline and the center line. It was a risky move, particularly for Fuji who usually waited near the baseline when Yagyu was the receiver. But a risk was required to end the game here. This was part one of their strategy - press the front of the court and force Nioh to aggressively defend his service game.

Part two of the strategy was a little trickier. Yagyu and Fuji took turns holding the ball in a rally, but they were both forcing their opponents to use their backhand to return the shot. When Yagyu estimated that they had woven the pattern tightly enough, he verbally signaled to Fuji to switch tactics. Fuji aimed wide to Nioh's forehand but, having been mentally drawn to use his backhand for so long, the ball slipped past him as he corrected his stance.

It was that first success that ultimately revealed the flaw in their plan. Even as they fell back into the same pattern, with Fuji as the receiver this time, he could tell that Yagyu recognized their mistake at the same time he did. By using a verbal signal to indicate when they switched from targeting backhand to forehand, they were also giving their opponents a signal to prepare for the new target. Yanagi proved them correct, preparing a forehand stroke as soon as Yagyu called out to Fuji.

There was no time to fix that problem in the middle of the game. They continued to press the front, but Fuji could tell that it was in vain with half of their strategy wiped out. Defending his partner, Yanagi soon demolished what remained of their strategy with several deep lobs that forced Fuji back to the baseline. Nioh took advantage of the opening at the net and sealed any hope Fuji and Yagyu had of breaking his service game.

Fuji jogged to the baseline. In position for his serve, he bounced the tennis ball and eyed where his opponents had lined up. Yanagi was back in no-man's land, but Nioh was a little closer to the net than he usually stood to receive serve. Both looked like they were eager to break his serve so that they could claim the match with the next game. Fuji made a silent vow.

_You will not break my serve._

Flipping his grip on the ball, Fuji spun his wrist and hit his underhand Disappearing Serve. Nioh had already seen and returned the disappearing serve once, but he had to hustle backwards to get into position to hit it. The extra movement disrupted his timing and, unlike his earlier return, the ball hit the net and fell back into his court.

This time, Yanagi was the receiver. Fuji hesitated a moment, then flicked his wrist for another variation of the Disappearing Serve. Yanagi seemed confident that he could track where the ball "disappeared" and calmly swung to meet its trajectory. Fuji was tempted to laugh when Yanagi's eyes flew open in shock as the ball bounced on the opposite side he had anticipated. The expression was remarkably similar to Inui's when he thought he had finally figured out something about Fuji's playing style, only for Fuji to wreck his calculations.

Unpredictability was the key.

Unfortunately, he really only had two versions of the disappearing serve, and both Yanagi and Nioh were capable of returning them and on guard now. Fuji opted for a topspin serve next, which Nioh easily returned. Fuji responded with a strong approach shot that forced Nioh to back up to properly return it. The return was still at a lower speed than his normal shots, which left Yagyu free to poach with a cross-court smash volley that Yanagi was too far back to cover.

Only one more point! It would have been better if this was match point, but Fuji would settle for a game point that guaranteed a tie-break. Fuji struck with a topspin slice that Yanagi easily returned, using a cross shot that passed behind Yagyu at the net. Fuji batted it back from the baseline, but Nioh was waiting at the net with a smash volley. "Got it!" Fuji yelled, dashing forward and spinning into a crouch at the same time. The Higuma Otoshi returned the ball back on the baseline as faithfully as always, but Yanagi was waiting for it. He sliced the ball back into the ad court...

...where Yagyu was waiting with his Laser Beam.

Fuji chuckled as the tension of that last point drained from his body. He knew using the Higuma Otoshi was a risk with Yanagi in the backcourt, but it ultimately worked out. He could get used to working with a partner that had a technique such as the Laser Beam. It complimented his counters nicely.

"Not that I'm in favor of running away from a match," Yagyu said quietly after the _tensai_ fell into step beside him, "but do you intend to challenge Yanagi-kun?"

Fuji knew why he was asking. They had only taken a total of one point from Yanagi so far when it was the Master's service game, whereas they managed to play a more even game against Nioh during his serve. If they conserved their energy during Yanagi's service game now, they would be better prepared to enter the tiebreak than if they pushed themselves and still dropped the game. They could also afford to drop the points when Yanagi served during the tiebreak as long as they could steal one from Nioh - assuming they kept all of their serves as well.

"Let things fall as they will," Fuji answered cryptically. Yagyu understood anyway. They wouldn't throw away this game, but they wouldn't strain themselves either.

Yanagi made their decision easy. As if he hadn't been playing a demanding match to that point, he scored two consecutive service aces before Fuji managed to hook Nioh into a brief rally. Nioh broke loose long enough to strike a ball between Yagyu and Fuji. Yanagi wrapped up the game with a third merciless service ace.

"Twelve points tiebreak. Yagyu to serve," Jackal announced from the observers' bench.

Akaya stretched his arms and legs to their furthest extent, thankful that there was no one behind him. " _Now_ are they almost done?"

"Hey, brat," Marui piped up, popping a bubble, "just sit back and enjoy this! It's gotten pretty interesting." Akaya took his sempai's advice and curled back in on himself sullenly.

Yukimura leaned an index finger against his chin thoughtfully.

Fuji joined Yagyu at the baseline for his first serve. It wasn't the standard formation they had used throughout the game, but that difference was what they were banking on. Once the ball was in play, both players rushed to the net in unison. The extra unexpected motion on the court distracted Nioh from his return, providing Yagyu with an easy set-up for an unreturnable passing shot.

"One-zero, Yagyu-Fuji pair."

Nioh's serve. A glance passed between Yagyu and Fuji that reassured them that they were in agreement. The next two points could be the most important in the entire match.

Fuji moved forward to receive, pinpointing his return at Nioh's feet when it looked like he was resorting back to his serve and volley style. Nioh halted his forward progression quick enough to return it, then aimed down the center line. Fuji again handled the return, but kept running until he crossed the center line. Yagyu filled the spot he had left open. Yanagi read his movement and lobbed to that back corner. Fuji could have reached the ball if it was on his side of the court, but he wasn't quick enough to go diagonally from the net to the opposite baseline corner.

"One all."

One opportunity lost. Yagyu moved into position to receive. He drew Nioh into a rally that must have been uncomfortably familiar to a previous experience, for Nioh unexpectedly hit a straight to break free. In doing so, he had shifted out of position by straying too far into the backcourt. Fuji pressed forward, smashing a volley past Nioh's feet.

"Two-one, Yagyu-Fuji pair."

The only concession Fuji allowed to celebrate the victory was a small pumping of his fist next to his leg. Yagyu graced him with a smile - the warmest he had seen from the Gentleman yet - and then it was back to business. Yanagi returned Fuji's first serve with a straight slice, hoping to catch Yagyu off guard. But both players were energized by their break point against Nioh, so Yagyu was able to answer with a passing shot that whizzed down the alley without opposition.

"Three-one, Yagyu-Fuji pair."

The pressure to protect this serve was enormous. If they lost a point here, their success against Nioh's serve would be for naught. Even though he had used it several times in the match already, Fuji opted to lead with his strong topspin slice serve. Nioh answered with a lob that sunk mid-court rather than back to the baseline. Yagyu answered the shot, rallying it back to Nioh twice before Fuji took over Yagyu's place at the center of the court. Yanagi returned Fuji's slice, which Fuji answered with a volley to Nioh's side of the court. The Trickster took aim at Yagyu with his returning shot, but an open palm from Fuji was all the warning he needed to allow the _tensai_ to swap places and poach. He had found an opening. At the last second, rather than volley back to Nioh's right side again, Fuji swung his racket around and smashed to his left.

"Four-one, Yagyu-Fuji pair."

The next two points passed in a blur. Fuji managed to hit Yanagi's first serve, but it smacked into the net instead of crossing back into the other court. Yagyu fared better when he received the second serve, drawing Nioh into another volley rally. However, Fuji didn't notice him signaling a poach until he had already crossed the center line. They avoided a collision, but the ball sailed past them in the momentary confusion.

"Three-four, Yanagi-Nioh pair."

"Sorry," Fuji muttered, but Yagyu waved off the apology. Instead, he leaned down to Fuji's ear and whispered a new idea. Fuji agreed. When he assumed his spot at the net for Yagyu's serve, he settled on top of the center line and crouched low so that he wouldn't get slammed in the back of his head with the tennis ball – experiencing that once was enough. Unlike their usual strategy, Yagyu stayed at the baseline after his serve. Fuji hovered on either side of the center line, poaching as long as the ball was within the span of his racket. Yagyu was left to guard the corners in the back of the court. The formation was unusual enough that their opponents had trouble finding a hole before Fuji scored the point.

Yanagi had evidently decided that Yagyu and Fuji were too troublesome at the net. He answered Yagyu's next serve with several aggressive lobs that forced them both to stay at the baseline. The Master was clearly immersed in the calculations of his data tennis, which gave Fuji an idea. He shifted into the stance he used to hit the Hakugei, biting on the inside of his cheek to conceal his grin when Yanagi automatically backed up to the baseline in preparation to return it. Tennis required as much mental conditioning as it did physical prowess, and Fuji intended to show why it was such a bad idea to try and predict his movements.

He drew the racket back and then swung it through to properly slice the ball. It hit the net...and dropped to the ground. Yanagi's eyes narrowed. He was quick to realize how badly he had just miscalculated, and looked annoyed that Fuji opted for a normal cord ball rather than the flashier Triple Counter.

"Six-three. Match point, Yagyu-Fuji pair."

Fuji had gotten so caught up in his battle of wits with Yanagi that he forgot the importance of protecting that point. He vocalized a pleased hum in the back of his throat as he set himself in position to receive. Actually playing the point passed in a blur. He remembered lobbing a difficult volley from below the net toward the back of the court. He also thought he recalled Nioh backing away from the net to cover an exposed section of the rear of the court. The only thing that was completely clear was Yagyu joining him at the net to execute a drop volley that neither Yanagi nor Nioh were in position to return.

"Game Set. Won by Yagyu-Fuji pair, seven games to six."

Delighted laughter spilled out of Fuji's mouth before he could control his giddiness. They had actually won! Before they could approach the net, Fuji spun around and held his hand out to his partner. "Thank you, Yagyu-kun."

Yagyu grasped Fuji's hand in a firm handshake. "It was a pleasure, Fuji-kun." The Gentleman glanced to where Yanagi and Nioh were waiting for them. Something he saw there caused his lips to twitch in amusement. "I hope we'll play again, soon."

Nioh greeted Fuji with a loose handshake (more like a hand-slap) and a lazy smile. He looked unaffected by the loss. Yanagi was harder to read. He didn't appear to be as unconcerned about the loss as Nioh, but he wasn't distraught either. He clasped Fuji's hand. "For a singles player, you exceeded my calculations. I expect you will continue to tap into all areas of your potential, Syusuke."

Having shared that nugget of insight, Yanagi walked over to the Rikkai bench. Fuji was left standing at the net, speechless. He couldn't remember the last time someone - other than his parents and Yumiko-neesan - called him Syusuke. It should have felt too intimate, but it sounded surprisingly natural coming from Yanagi. Fuji realized he must have adjusted to hearing Yanagi call all of his teammates by their first names already.

Fuji abruptly shut his eyes, reviewing every word he had heard from Yanagi so far. It was true - he referred to each of his teammates by the first name...and no honorifics. Before their game, Yanagi called him 'Fuji'. For him to suddenly switch to 'Syusuke', and pay him a compliment on his skills at the same time...Fuji realized it was the Master's way of letting him know that he had earned his respect.

With the trio of Rikkai players returning to the bench, there was a new round of jostling for seats. A few elbow jabs and head slaps were thrown around, but everyone took care not to do so much as breathe too heavily on their _buchou_. For his part, Yukimura remained unflappable - a picture-perfect model of the eye of a storm.

He continued to study Fuji, who had not joined the other players in congregating at the bench. Yukimura wondered what part of the game, or the words exchanged afterward, had paralyzed him in place. The mystery helped distract him from launching into a critique of the game. While it was true that Yanagi was the analyst of the team and that Yukimura was currently too weak to pick up a racket, he was still keen enough to spot a dozen holes in each of their playing styles. That many mistakes would be unacceptable if that had been a regular practice match, but he would let it slide for now since it was more of a warm-up game than anything serious. Yanagi had been too preoccupied with gathering his data to reign in Nioh, and the Trickster had looked more interested in provoking responses from his opponents rather than defeating them.

Sanada, who had disappeared during Yanagi's final service game, reentered the courts with his racket tucked under his arm. He waited until he could make eye contact with Yukimura, then gestured to the player still motionless at the net. The _buchou_ nodded, giving his permission to proceed.

"Fuji," Sanada said in greeting. The chatter around the bench came to a halt, as if they had been addressed instead. Fuji shook himself from his thoughts and turned to face Sanada. In the back of his mind, he could already guess what the next question was going to be. "Are you ready for one last game?"

Once again, the fallen blossom proverb rose to the front of Fuji's mind. Perhaps he was more like the blossom than he cared to admit. Just like how the blossom could never be reattached to the branch, each step forward was another increment that distanced you from your past self. Fuji had changed in the past few hours. There was really no choice at this point but to continue on this new path.

"Ah," Fuji agreed. "Let's play."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: With the Master's approval in hand, the only obstacle remaining in Fuji's path is the Emperor. What must Fuji do to earn the recognition of the final member of the Rikkai Big Three?


	6. Emperor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the Master's approval in hand, the only obstacle remaining in Fuji's path is the Emperor. What must Fuji do to earn the recognition of the final member of the Rikkai Big Three?

_January 22, 2006_

_"Ah, let's play."_

Fuji wondered how many people dared to accept a match from Sanada with such nonchalance. 'Let's play' he had said, as if responding to a request from Taka-san to join him in a warm-up rally instead of accepting an invitation to play a serious match against (arguably) the strongest junior high player in Japan. Fuji was under no delusions that the match would be demanding. Along with the other two demons of Rikkaidai, Sanada was a legend around the circuit. He was as likely to be referred to by the nickname of _Emperor_ as he was by his name.

Reputation alone didn't intimidate Fuji, for reputations were often exaggerated. However, Sanada had rightfully earned every ounce of respect he received from his peers. Fuji had witnessed his skills first-hand last summer when he demolished a _sempai_ 's game at the Kanto tournament. His tennis was brutal and efficient...and Fuji suspected he hadn't needed to push himself to eliminate Seigaku and seal Rikkai's advancement without dropping a single point.

'Let's play,' he had said. The tone was casual, but his emotions were anything but calm. The adrenaline from his earlier matches was still there, driving him forward to meet this new challenge head-on, but fatigue was starting to flicker at the edges of his awareness. Fuji batted that sensation away and focused on the emotion that would fuel his adrenaline: excitement.

_"Ah, let's play."_  
  
Fuji fondly remembered another match he had been thrilled to play that began with a similar prelude. On that occasion, the roles had been reversed. Fuji was the one that extended the offer, and it was eagerly accepted by a player that was normally slow to display the full range of his emotions. He could still picture the way his prospective opponent's glasses enhanced the competitive glint in his eyes at that moment, rather than conceal it.

Neither did those glasses conceal the silent apology in his eyes a few hours later, as he crouched on the ground utterly defeated. The purity of his regret had shocked Fuji. He was prepared for the older boy not to look at him directly - the glare of the setting sun would make it hard to look up without squinting, and there was also the fact that his eyes had been clenched tightly in pain just moments earlier as he clutched his elbow. But evidently neither of those factors could overwhelm his self-reproach for disappointing Fuji with such a sub-par performance.

Fuji had many memories of his ill-fated match with Tezuka. Years from now, even after he walked away from a tennis court for competitive purposes for the last time, Fuji suspected he would remember snippets with perfect clarity - the sound of a racket clattering against the ground as it was knocked loose from a weak grip, or perhaps the feel of a cotton tee-shirt bunched in his fists as he yanked his stubborn opponent down to his height. Those moments were unforgettable, but none would haunt him as much as the droop of Tezuka's eyebrows and the unfathomable sorrow in his eyes as Fuji berated him for trying to fulfill their promise when he was in such poor physical condition.

It was easy to get lost in those memories, particularly with Sanada as an opponent. If he concentrated, Fuji could almost fool himself into believing that it was Tezuka standing across the net from him. Physically speaking, they were built similarly. Both had already hit the first growth spurt of their teenage years, looking more like men than the boys they were. Fuji, who was roughly the same height as Rikkai's first year ace, felt like a child standing next to Tezuka these days...and the difference might have been even more noticeable with Sanada.

But for all of their physical similarities, it was in the aura they radiated on the court that Fuji thought they resembled each other the most. He could imagine that their broad shoulders were a physical manifestation of the responsibility and hard work they metaphorically shouldered. They projected an aura of stability for their friends...and impenetrability to their opponents. Carrying themselves this way enhanced the illusion that they were ruthless tennis-playing machines, but anyone who dared look deep into their eyes could witness the restrained passion within.

At least, Fuji assumed that was as true for Sanada as it was for Tezuka. With the way his black cap shadowed his eyes, it was hard to get a firm reading on what he was feeling behind the front of his Emperor persona. There was a chance that Sanada himself didn't know; that the intense discipline of his training regimen had allowed him to detach himself from unnecessary emotions while he focused on a game.

Fuji caught himself before he could enter a new spiral of baseless speculation. There was no evidence that, practice match or otherwise, there was anything on Sanada's mind when he entered a court other than mercilessly crushing the opponent in front of him. He would be wise to try and approach this match the same way.

Fuji walked forward to meet Sanada at the net, squinting as the sun hit his eyes at a new angle. He had lost count of how many hours he had been playing at this point. Fuji had been distracted by other things during his match with Akaya to worry about how long they were spending on each game. He was sure that the doubles match had eaten up a lot of time, having gone all the way to a tie-break. Come to think of it, the umpire had switched from Sanada to Jackal towards the end of that match. Fuji concluded that Sanada must have left to warm up elsewhere on the campus when it became clear that the match wouldn't be settled before tie-break.

Thankfully, the doubles match had been demanding but not as detrimental to his physical health as the match against Akaya. Unlike the last game, there was no friendly offer for a break or a drink of water. Sanada had pounced before Fuji had gotten his wits back about him from the last match.

And if he could play while he was essentially blind, he wasn't about to ask for a break now to catch his breath.

_Ah, let's play,_ Fuji thought to himself once more, for luck. All he had to do was think of this final match as a type of endurance training. In a year's time, three-set matches would be the norm, rather than the exception, to prepare for the tournament format in the senior high circuit. He was just getting a heads-start on things, that was all.

Fuji dug his fingers into the grip tape layered around his racket's handle as he propped the rim on the ground in preparation for the toss. "Which?" he asked.

"Smooth," Sanada answered without hesitation. Fuji released his tight clutch on the handle and twisted the racket into a spin that would eventually send it toppling over. Once it clattered noisily against the court surface, he knelt down to check the outcome.

The initial was upside down. "Rough," he declared, showing the racket to Sanada to confirm. "I'll take serve first."

Sanada acknowledged the result with a stern nod, moving into position to receive the serve.

Fuji knew he needed to set the tone of the match with the very first point. He positioned himself behind the mid-court corner of the serving box, checked one last time where Sanada was standing to take the edge off the building pre-match agitation, then tossed the ball into play.

That first serve felt like it was moving in double-time. No sooner had Fuji straightened himself from his serving stance, the ball was already doubling back to him on a return path. If he hadn't already planned his strategy for this first point, it would have been over much too quickly. Even with a plan firmly in mind, Fuji just barely dashed behind the ball to handle the return. With a long, deep groundstroke, Fuji aimed the ball at a point that would require Sanada to rely on his backhand to return it cleanly. He did so, which had been Fuji's aim from the start. He eyed the topspin hungrily, dipping his racket low and then swinging it up in a vertical arc. The _Tsubame Gaeshi_ flew across the net and skidded across the ground by Sanada's feet, banging harmlessly against the fence.

"Fifteen-love."

Fuji had successfully wrestled the first point away from Sanada, for which he was grateful. He suspected it would only get more difficult from this point forward, especially in light of the unimpressed grimace Sanada was sporting after seeing the first Triple Counter up close.

Sanada answered Fuji's second serve with a drop shot, pulling him away from the baseline where he was most comfortable. Fuji was able to knock the ball back over the net, but lobbing at such a close range had the unavoidable effect of providing Sanada with a chance ball. He took advantage of it, smashing to the back corner to even the score.

Fuji led the next serve with the reverse disappearing serve that managed to take Yanagi by surprise. Sanada didn't let the irregular path of the ball hinder his ability to return it, but Fuji approached the net with a drop shot of his own to secure his second point. A second use of the underhand serve - this time, the original variation - was returned with equal efficiency. Fuji had trouble approaching the net again, forced to engage Sanada in a tense rally until one of them revealed an opening. Sanada appeared to find one first, taking advantage of a high return to leap into the air and throw the power of his whole body behind a smash. The leap gave Fuji enough to read Sanada's body language and prepare his _Higuma Otoshi_. Sanada was moving to the back of the court as soon as his feet landed back on the ground, but the ball had already struck the baseline and rolled to a stop.

Fuji wobbled a bit as he rose back into an upright position and cautiously flexed his fingers around the racket handle. The power behind that smash was monstrous. Not even the power-play style of Taka-san or their young new Regular, Momoshiro, could make his palm throb from the effort needed to maintain his grip like that.

The discomfort continued during the next point as Sanada began hitting balls that required Fuji to again play close to the net. He had little choice but to answer the challenge, volleying drop shots before they fell too low and springing up to block lobs from passing over his head. The height difference Fuji had been musing about earlier finally affected the game, as a topspin lob cleared the tip of Fuji's racket with several centimeters to spare and landed on the baseline with flawless precision.

Only one more point. Fuji tossed back the ball for his serve and willingly followed it to the net. He couldn't really detect any surprise in Sanada's impassive expression, but the decision seemed to be the right one when the ball returned to him with a topspin. Fuji prepared the extreme slice necessary for his _Tsubame Gaeshi_ , and the ball fell underneath Sanada's racket as he intended, gliding across the ground for the game point.

"Game, Fuji. One game to love. Change court," Jackal announced.

" _Fukubuchou_ dropped a game?" Disbelief colored Akaya's voice. He squirmed in his seat on the bench. There was a lot about Fuji's tennis that surprised him, but to see _Sanada_ of all people unable to hold him from winning a game scared him.

If any of the other Rikkai team members were disturbed by the flow of the match, they kept their thoughts to themselves.

Fuji tried not to give into the urge to fidget with his racket strings as they swapped courts. He hated that he was feeling a little flustered, but winning a game wasn't supposed to make _you_ feel like you had been backed into a corner. Somehow, he had preserved his service game, but it was not without its flaws. Sanada had nearly driven him to a deuce, and he had already relied on two of the Triple Counters to get him that far.

Just like with his counters, facing Sanada's tennis from the opposite side of the net was a far different experience than just watching from the sidelines. Fuji convinced himself not to worry about dropping the first point to a service ace. It was more important to dissect his playing style and lose a few points now so that he could adequately fight later in the game.

Sanada threw his serves up high, knees always slightly bent to allow him to push off the balls of his feet that much faster. Each of his serves was as fast as a bullet, the balls still vibrating with power after the first bounce. On the second serve, and the second service ace, Fuji noted that it was the way his broad shoulders and muscled arms stretched back before whipping against the ball that allowed him to maximize the force imbued in each stroke.

By the third serve, Fuji decided his analysis was complete enough to attempt a return. He rushed to intercept the ball, intending to add the momentum of his dash to his return, but it missed the sweet spot and angled the wrong way off his racket. The ball harmlessly bounced into one of the adjacent courts, but the recoil from the ball's improper placement knocked Fuji off-balance. He caught himself with his free hand before he completely slammed into the ground, but he could still feel the telltale sting of skin being rubbed raw. Fuji brushed his hand against his pants to shake off any dirt that threatened to get under the shallow cuts.

He smiled sheepishly and moved back into position to receive the next serve, which also ended up being Sanada's final serve. Fuji finally succeeded in returning the ball, but misread a cord ball as a smash. He had been halfway through the motion of raising his racket for the _Higuma Otoshi_ when he figured out the ball's trajectory was too shallow to clear the net. By then, there simply wasn't enough time to correct his stance before it hit the ground.

The sheepish smile flattened further, doing a poor job of concealing the gloomy turn his mood had taken. Fuji tried to remind himself that dropping the game, even in the form of a love game, was a necessary sacrifice to acclimate himself to Sanada's tennis, but it was still an unpleasant experience to drop a game so definitively. Tennis was as much a mental exercise as it was a physical sport, after all. The more lopsided the score, the harder it could be to convince yourself that you still had an equal footing with your opponent.

A new plan forming in his mind, Fuji drew a spare ball from his pocket and strode back to the rear line of the service box. Sanada clearly held the advantage on the physical side of the game. However, he might be able to hold an even pace by controlling the mental aspects of the game - which meant it was more necessary than ever that he remain unpredictable.

Fuji tossed the ball and hit it with a relatively soft overhand swing, a mere tap compared to some of the powerful serves this match had already been witness to. The intention had been to throw Sanada off-kilter by alternating between soft and hard shots, but there was no hesitation as Sanada smashed the ball past Fuji for a return ace. He roughly exhaled. Before trying to toy with Sanada's head, perhaps it would be wiser to steady his own nerves.

Switching to a familiar stance, Fuji launched a slice serve that forced Sanada to dash outside the singles court to set up a proper return. He intentionally telegraphed his next move, drawing back his racket in preparation for a smash to the rear of his opponent's court. As soon as he was sure Sanada had taken the bait, Fuji lowered the racket head so he was holding it parallel to the ground. The last-moment switch from smash to passing shot successfully threw off the timing for Sanada to handle the ball as he had intended, and the score was once again tied at fifteen-all.

Even as Fuji's own body reacted on instinct when the next point devolved into a fierce rally, he couldn't help but be impressed with the way Sanada's actions appeared effortless. His steps never looked hurried, yet he was quick to move from point to point around the court thanks to his long legs. After that rally ended in a point for Sanada, Fuji attempted to set up another _Tsubame Gaeshi_ so that the topspin would be sent skidding past Sanada's left (and presumably weaker) side. The Emperor tore that theory to shreds by demonstrating that he could return balls by his backhand with ease equal to that of his forehand.

Faced with a break point, Fuji persisted in using his slice serve to draw Sanada into yet another rally. He surged forward to answer a drop shot, but the fatigue plaguing his calf muscles proved to be too much. A half-step behind where he needed to be, the ball only managed to smack into the net rather than sail over it.

"Game, Sanada. Two games to one. Change court," came Jackal's reliable call.

Since it looked like Sanada had stopped at his equipment bag near the Rikkai bench during the court change, Fuji took advantage of the lull to bend over and massage the building cramp in his calves while at the same time drying his hands on the fabric of his warm-up pants. Sweat had started beading on his palms sometime during the second rally of the last game. The last thing Fuji needed was for his racket to go flying out of his hand mid-swing because his grip was slick with moisture.

Although it wasn't the first time his service game was broken today, Fuji had to admit that he was being outplayed. His low-lidded gaze tracked Sanada as he confidently marched onto the court and prepared his first serve. The Rikkai _fukubuchou_ had removed his jersey and left it on the sideline, revealing the standard yellow and black short-sleeve polo that was part of their Regular squad's uniform. With a cool sea breeze still circulating the air around the court, Fuji wondered what had prompted Sanada to shed his outer layer of clothing. _After all_ , he thought to himself with a touch of bitterness, _it's not like I've forced him to overexert himself._

Stripping off his jersey had also triggered speculation among the players on the Rikkai bench...after Sanada was out of hearing range, of course.

"Is Sanada going to use _that_ , you think?" Marui asked his teammates from his spot on the ground, unwrapping a fresh piece of gum and popping it in his mouth.

"Well, Fuji-kun has done an admirable job of maintaining a rally despite the superiority of his opponent," Yagyu noted, nudging his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose with his knuckle as he followed the ball sailing back and forth across the net. "Sanada-kun may have decided to use _that_ to finish the match more efficiently."

"After all," Yanagi tacked on, pausing briefly while Fuji futilely lunged to the right to keep the ball in play, "at this rate Syusuke has no chance of winning."

"It _does_ look that way," Jackal muttered before raising his voice to announce the score. "Fifteen-love."

Oblivious to the chatter of his opponent's teammates, Fuji set himself back into position to receive the next serve. He had just answered a finger-numbing flat serve with his own version of a flat shot when he noticed Sanada drawing his elbow back in preparation for a technique Fuji didn't recognize.

"Invade like fire," Sanada declared.

To this point in the match Sanada had been an overwhelming yet silent adversary, preferring to let his skill speak for itself. Suddenly hearing his voice was a surprise in itself, although it paled in comparison to the execution of his technique. Fuji felt like a spectator to the match (rather than a participant) as he watched Sanada drop his shoulder so the racket head nearly brushed the ground behind him, then swung his arm in a full arc until the racket almost touched the ground in front of him. Out of habit, Fuji's eyes briefly strayed to the spot where the ball had struck his court - but it was unnecessary to check that it was in. It was hard to miss the wind force of the ball as it thundered past him.

To invade like fire... _Ka_ , was it?

That monstrous degree of power was the most blatant demonstration Fuji had yet to witness of why Sanada, along with Yukimura and Yanagi, were also known as the demons of Rikkai. _Ka_ allowed Sanada to maximize the impact of his smash without looming on top of the net. The way Sanada completely rotated his body before slamming back to the ground to launch a second _Ka_ was deceptively casual.

Having already dropped two points just to _Ka_ , Fuji knew he couldn't afford to lose any more to that technique. Once he saw Sanada assume the stance for _Ka_ a third time, Fuji backed up a few feet. He extended his racket arm across his chest, bracing it with his free arm as he calculated the timing he'd need to counter the super smash, then pivoted around to execute the _Higuma Otoshi_.

It was the first time Fuji managed to put his racket on the ball since Sanada began using _Ka_. The sensation of power blasting past his body hadn't prepared him for what it would be like to intercept that shot before it made landfall. The force flung Fuji onto his knees, hands stinging from the effort required to stop his racket from being blown away. His eyes widened, anxiously checking the gut strings. Akaya had managed to snap them earlier on his other racket when he used a strong, but otherwise normal, ground smash. Sanada's technique was far more powerful. Fuji concluded that, at its current level, the _Higuma Otoshi_ was not capable of countering Sanada's _Ka_. With more time and planning there was a chance he could tweak his stance to stand up to that tactic, but he couldn't afford to damage another racket right now.

"Game, Sanada. Three games to one."

Fuji pushed himself to his feet and slowly turned around. Sanada was waiting by the net, racket tucked under his non-playing arm. Even though his eyes were still hidden by the shadow of his cap, it felt like they were penetrating straight into Fuji's soul. "No matter what technique used against me," he warned gravely, "the match always ends with the defeat of my opponent. You will be no different."

Fuji swallowed his annoyance and searched the ground for a ball to serve instead. Sanada's words hadn't been like the cocky boasts of Akaya. While Akaya was undeniably talented, he was still inexperienced enough to be both outplayed and outwitted by those that challenged him. By taunting the wrong opponent, Akaya might one day inspire someone to crush him in exactly the same merciless style he preferred to use. Sanada's words, on the other hand, were intended to serve more as a matter-of-fact warning than a true jeer.

And unfortunately, Fuji conceded as he struggled to return Sanada's shots, it seemed he was correct. The sheer power behind the passing shots forced Fuji to use both hands to brace his returns, and even then he was still unable to answer Sanada's ground smashes without his returns either smacking the net or landing outside the playing court. Meanwhile, Sanada continually set himself back at the hash mark in the center of the court after responding to each ball. He also steadied his racket with his free hand before every swing, but it was clearly a habit born of repetition than because of any difficulty in returning Fuji's shots.

Fuji was a little insulted that Sanada had reverted to using a standard ground smash rather than _Ka_ , but thought it best to find a way to use Sanada not pressing his advantage rather than dwell on it. Fuji was not willing to give up, and his persistence was finally rewarded when a slice shot to the ad court bounced too sharply for Sanada to return.

That wasn't to say that Fuji had magically regained control of the game. The power behind Sanada's movements was still enough to propel him high into the air before he imbued that strength into his strokes. Fuji wouldn't have been surprised if Sanada could leap over the net in a single bound. Feeling backed into a corner, Fuji took the strands of hair suddenly obscuring his vision as a sign that he should pull out the final counter he had held in reserve. The ball hopped into the breeze, and for a few blissful moments Fuji allowed himself to be caught up in the spectacle of the ball dancing in the air. However, much like his teammates before him, Sanada was ready for the _Hakugei_ as it began its reverse bounce and used a drop shot to seal the break point in his favor.

"Game, Sanada. Four games to one. Change court."

It was a strange position Fuji found himself in as he mechanically changed courts. Normally, he set the pace of the match - drawing it out as long as it entertained him. He enjoyed watching the expression on the faces of his opponents as they struggled to understand and overcome his tennis style. It might have been a touch cruel, except he usually spent game after game waiting for his opponent to meet his challenges and propel the game to thrilling new heights. This rarely happened, but matches over the past few years had been interesting enough to keep him from straying too far from tennis.

Today was anything but normal. Each of his Triple Counters had been broken...some had even been copied and used against him! Every time one of his counters had proven ineffectual, it felt like a little piece of his identity had been chipped away. Facing Sanada, he was suddenly standing in the shoes of all of the opponents he could remember playing against - struggling to match the pace set by the other player and racing against time to decipher their tennis style. For all of the limits he had broken through earlier in the morning, Fuji now felt like he was bumping his head against another ceiling on his potential. Against Akaya, the ceiling had been like glass - offering a glimpse of what existed on the other side and fragile enough to break through when the right force was applied. However, the ceiling that Sanada represented was more like steel - thick, durable and opaque.

Judging by the way the pace seemed to be picking up, Sanada seemed bored with the game. Fuji wondered if this was what Yukimura had intended all along - inspiring him to stretch himself by immersing him in the despair of inferiority. If so, it was working. Although he was still struggling to find the footing he needed to begin a counterattack, he was determined not to be swept away by the undertow of Sanada's momentum. More than anything else, he just needed time to come up with something new.

Since he was already three games behind and facing an uphill battle to break Sanada's serve, Fuji suspected that 'time' was not something Sanada would be keen on providing for him. The speed of Sanada's shots had not dropped off as the game progressed, which meant that Fuji quickly found himself down thirty-love. He widened his awareness, taking into account everything from the way the edges of Sanada's shirt sleeves fluttered in the breeze with every racket stroke to the flash of focused dark eyes when Sanada's ground-shaking leaps carried him high enough to allow Fuji to see underneath the brim of his cap. He credited that heightened focus for enabling him to read Sanada's intentions to hit a cord ball. Fuji dashed forward, answering it with a drop shot that was unreturnable from Sanada's current position on the court.

Fuji cursed himself on the next point after he made a rookie mistake. Instead of pinpointing his groundstroke so that it hit on top of the singles court tramline, his return touched down just outside the playing court in the doubles alley. The error cost him a point he desperately needed, and brought Sanada that much closer to game point.

Surprisingly, it was Sanada who drew Fuji into a rally on the next point. As they exchanged one cross-court shot after another, Fuji carefully measured the topspin on the ball. Once it had built to the level he desired, Fuji echoed Sanada's earlier tactic by aiming for a cord ball of his own. The ball dropped on the other side of the net as he had planned, and suddenly Fuji found himself one point away from forcing Sanada into a deuce during his service game.

If his increasing ferocity was a valid measure, Sanada was very unhappy that Fuji had narrowed the score as close as he had. Their next rally seemed never-ending. Fuji managed to hold Sanada in the back-court by regularly alternating his shots between the rear corners. One cross-court shot after another...even if Sanada hit a straight shot, Fuji persisted in answering it with a cross-court shot to the diagonal corner. Sanada finally showed signs of breaking out of the repetitive pattern when one of Fuji's shots fell short of the rear tramline. Realizing that Sanada was free to move to the net, Fuji hustled forward to block the expected drop shot.

"Game, Sanada," Jackal announced in a neutral tone. "Five games to one."

Fuji stifled a groan. Sanada's approach had been a decoy. He used Fuji's own momentum against him, continuing the pattern of their rally after forcing Fuji out of position so that he couldn't reach the shot deep into the other side of his court.

And so, the game had come full circle. If Fuji couldn't hold serve here, it would result in his loss - just as Sanada had predicted earlier. While handy to dazzle your opponent, the problem with techniques was that relying too heavily on them would only hasten your defeat once they were broken. Persistent to the end, Fuji grimly watched as Sanada pivoted backward to perfectly return his underhand cut serve despite the illusion that it had disappeared. Since he was aware that Sanada wouldn't be tricked by the serve, he used the foreknowledge to try and set up a backspin lob into the rear court. The ploy once again failed, and Sanada scored the first point with an overhead smash that was perfect in its execution but stylistically bland.

Although the speed of Sanada's shots remained constant throughout the game, the power behind his smashes had steadily dropped since he unleashed _Ka_. The Rikkai _fukubuchou_ didn't appear to be tired. Instead, it looked as if he just didn't think Fuji was worth expending the effort to incorporate his stronger techniques anymore. Fuji wasn't thrilled with his performance either. It was one thing to look at the scoreboard at the end of a match and see that your opponent was the victor...but he couldn't remember the last time he dropped five games in a singles match, let alone five games in a row.

No matter what the skill level of his opponent was, losing like this would be disappointing.

At this rate, he was going to lose to himself as much as Sanada. During the match against Akaya, Fuji had reached deep inside himself and used his inner strength to burst through his limits. He had built upon that confidence during the doubles match, forging a successful working relationship with Yagyu that ultimately carried the pair to a win.

But standing across the net from Sanada had been like flipping a switch that reverted Fuji back to the same boy he had been this morning before he left for the Rikkaidai campus. Even though he told himself he wouldn't be dazzled by reputation, he had allowed a kernel of doubt to get a stranglehold on his attitude. The fear he had been reluctant to acknowledge, that he _couldn't_ stand evenly on the court with the legendary Emperor of Rikkai, caused him to stubbornly cling to his familiar techniques and make excuses about why they weren't working rather than find something that _would_ work.

Yukimura had advised him during their first conversation that he needed to find stronger players and challenge them if he wanted to avoid wasting his potential. Well, he had found a stronger player, but his fighting spirit had been dealt a devastating blow. After being cornered by such a humiliating defeat, where was he supposed to go?

_"...continue to evolve."_

Fuji closed his eyes and focused on the steady rhythm of his breathing as he deeply inhaled and then released the breath with a long hiss. With each lungful that he exhaled, he imagined dispelling the anxiety that had gone unacknowledged for so much of the match. Yukimura had given him both the problem and the solution back in September. If it was useless to face a defeat like this, he would have to make the defeat mean something positive.

Fuji thrust the ball into the air and launched a straightforward slice serve. Sanada used a deep groundstroke to reverse the path, and the spin, of the ball. It was a setup which Fuji could not ignore.

"What is he doing?" Akaya groused when Fuji lowered his racket perpendicular to the ground and bent his left knee to drop him into a lunge. "There's no way _fukubuchou_ would have trouble returning Fuji's _tsubame gaeshi_ again." Watching his _fukubuchou_ overwhelm the same player that _he_ had been overwhelmed by earlier had him feeling cranky. If Fuji could beat him with a major handicap, what did that mean for how much further _he_ had to improve before he could defeat Sanada? Even with this _Muga_ - _whatchamacallit_ , Akaya was losing patience with how much work it was to reach the same level as the elite of Rikkai's elite.

As Akaya had predicted, Sanada had moved into position for a drop volley shot once he recognized Fuji shifting into the stance for the first of his Triple Counters. Both he and the spectators were confused when the ball barely cleared the net before dropping and gliding along the court surface until it banged into the fence far behind Sanada. While Sanada continued to stare at the ball, confused by its unexpected behavior, the Rikkai bench turned in near-unison to Fuji for an explanation.

The _tensai_ 's closed eyes concealed the distant turn his thoughts had taken. He had drifted through time and space, back to a rainy afternoon in Chiba when the wet conditions made it too dangerous to play on the wooden playground that was so popular among the local children. On this particular day, he had curled up on the floor beneath a window in the elementary school's library with a book on traditional Japanese folktales better suited for an older child. (Fuji had always enjoyed selecting unusual titles to read, if the twitch Yuuta developed whenever he pulled out the worn copy of "Scary Fairytales" that he habitually read aloud before their bedtime was an accurate gauge.) He spent hours reading about the four celestial emblems that were associated with the major compass directions. There was some overlap with the mythology surrounding the four heavenly kings, but Fuji preferred reading about exotic creatures rather than their humanoid counterparts.

According to the legend, the guardian of the southern constellations would only make one of its rare appearances to mark the beginning of a new era. It was...

"Triple Counter, _Houou Gaeshi_."

Fuji lowered the racket until it was cradled in his free hand and resolutely contemplated his opponent's reaction. Sanada's facial expression was inscrutable, but there was a tension in the set of his shoulders that hadn't been present after the first serve. Fuji would have shared his wariness if their places were reversed. He hadn't known that part of him existed either - not until a few moments before it was unleashed.

The next serve was led with one of Fuji's specialties, a top-spin slice, and quickly answered with an aggressive drop volley. Fuji's options were limited by Sanada's quick-paced response, but he was satisfied with his choice to feed a defensive lob in return. It could have been Fuji's imagination, but he thought Sanada hesitated before unleashing one of his more powerful ground smashes, questioning whether he should be concerned about some trick up Fuji's sleeve.

One of the mistakes Fuji had made earlier in the game was writing off the possibility of returning Sanada's stronger smashes with his Counters. Directly returning something equivalent to the level of _Ka_ might be impossible at his current skill level, but he had abandoned the chance of returning any of Sanada's smashes. If he didn't try, he would never know. Wasn't _that_ the lesson Yukimura wanted him to walk away with after today's exercise was over?

Fuji extended his racket straight into the air, gripping the handle with both hands before pivoting into a crouch. Sanada, ever alert in moving toward the baseline, skidded short when he realized the ball dropped on the opposite side of the court than he had expected.

Without turning around, Fuji named the second of his evolved counters: "Triple Counter, _Kirin Otoshi_."

To the Japanese, the Kirin was the most powerful mythological creature. Fuji couldn't think of any beast more appropriate to associate with the counter-technique designed to reflect what usually amounted to the most forceful shots in the game of tennis.

"What is he doing?" Akaya asked, sour mood forgotten as he was once again sucked into watching the game unfold. "Those don't look anything like the counters Fuji was using earlier."

"He lacked the tools he needed to compete with Genichiroh, so he developed them over the course of the game," was the Master's analysis. "Right, Seiichi?"

" _Ah_ ," Yukimura agreed, voice deceptively smug in light of the neutral smile he had fixed in place. "He's finally begun to evolve."

"Look at that," Marui exclaimed, pointing at the way Fuji had moved into position to hit a heavy back slice to break the rally he was currently engaged in. "Is that a _Hakugei_?"

"Nah," Nioh responded with a snicker when the ball dropped to the court's surface instead of hopping. "Just a cord ball. Looks like he had Sanada fooled, though."

Like Nioh, Fuji didn't miss the way Sanada had been anticipating the reverse bounce of the _Hakugei_. On his match point, he once again broke off a rally using a heavy back slice. The ball whistled as it bounced off the net and rode the air currents to arc above Sanada's head before landing in his backcourt. He already knew what to call this variation of his third counter. Many Japanese dragons, after all, were reputed to have the ability to change their size and shape. Like those legendary beasts, the ball's rotation caused it deviate from the shape of its usual path. It flew diagonally, far from Sanada's reach, rattling the fence only after passing over the heads of the group gathered around the Rikkai bench.

"Triple Counter, _Hakuryuu_ ," Fuji announced, pride seeping into his voice.

"Game, Fuji. Two games to five." Jackal faithfully announced, although there was still a hint of disbelief in his voice. "Change court."

Having rolled to a stop near his feet, Yagyu bent over to retrieve the ball and tossed it to Sanada to use during his service game. The _fukubuchou_ acknowledged the assistance with a stiff nod before nearly colliding with the Seigaku _tensai_.

For his part, Fuji hadn't realized that he was walking into Sanada until it was almost too late. His eyes had been aimed at the ground, having bowed his head apologetically at the Rikkai team. As proud as he was of the _Hakuryuu_ , he had come dangerously close to hitting someone because of the technique's abnormal bounce. Knowing how frail Yukimura's health currently was, and not harboring any grudges against the rest of the team, Fuji would have been very upset if anyone was harmed because of his impetuousness for using an untested attack.

Once he realized that a collision was imminent, Fuji momentarily froze before stepping aside so that both players could continue the ritual of changing courts. He had been close enough to get a rare glimpse at Sanada's eyes. Frankly, he was surprised to find Sanada closely studying him as they passed each other. As he set into position to receive Sanada's serve, he wondered what the other player was searching for...and if he was satisfied with what he _did_ find.

Fuji was half-way through his first swing when the ball blew past him for a service ace. Against his will, he was impressed that Sanada was still capable of generating that breathless speed this late in the game. He closed his eyes, trying to relax and recapture the state of mind he'd experienced when playing against Akaya. If he let the ball dictate his movements rather than getting fixed on using a specific technique to score a point...there! Fuji surprised Sanada with a backhand slice, tying the score at fifteen-all.

Earlier in the day, Fuji had convinced himself that he could control the entire game as long as he could feel the presence of the ball. That was true, although only to a certain extent. Competing against Sanada had demonstrated that he needed the muscle and physical dexterity in order to make his body move the way it needed to, such as when a broad groundstroke forced Fuji to defend the ball from one of his corners. Somehow, while Sanada was still situated at the center hash mark, Fuji managed to hit a low slice that landed in the corner of the ad service box. When Sanada sprinted in vain after the ball, Fuji realized that Sanada had made a rare miscalculation about whether Fuji had the speed to answer that stroke.

Fuji felt like he had caught his second wind, mixing in a few offensive lobs with heightened topspin on the next rally. He was starting to enjoy his slim lead when Sanada assumed another unusual stance - this time, bracing his racket parallel to the net. Fuji was momentarily confused when the ball behaved differently than he expected, which was enough for the ball to sneak past him and even the score once again at thirty-all.

"Quiet like the forest."

A technique that softened the spin on the ball? Fuji didn't have long to mull over the best way to counter the so-called _Rin_ before Sanada unleashed his next serve. Shortly after Fuji had executed a rare (for him, at least) two-handed backhand volley, he noticed Sanada positioning his racket into the stance for _Rin_ once again. He wondered if Sanada had realized that he recognized what he was doing and tried to change techniques at the last minute, for the spin seemed much stronger than it had during the last point. Whatever the reason, Fuji negated Sanada's efforts by amplifying the spin even further with another appearance of the _Houou Gaeshi_.

Fuji's arm hung suspended over his head for a few moments as his chest heaved from the exertion of channeling that much spin into a single shot. He was still three games behind, but victory suddenly seemed attainable now that he had forced Sanada to break point. He set himself to receive Sanada's usual high-powered serve, and he found that his expectations weren't disappointed. His slice return was chased down by Sanada, who applied enough backspin to his shot to cause the ball to drop quickly after it skimmed the net. Fuji watched in horror as his racket passed right over the ball, wasting his lead and bringing the game to a deuce.

Fatigue and hastiness were mixing together, contributing equally to form the stupid mistake Fuji had just made. He rolled his shoulders to loosen muscles that were starting to tighten from their use over the course of the day. Fuji and Sanada were back to exchanging cross-court groundstrokes that forced each player to remain in the back court. When Fuji suddenly stumbled in the middle of his footwork, he managed to recover by changing his stroke to a defensive lob. The recovery was short-lived when he realized the lob was much more shallow than he hoped, allowing the Emperor to calmly step up and execute a ground smash that was powerful enough to bounce clear over Fuji's head.

"Advantage Server!"

Fuji managed to keep his wits about him long enough to return Sanada's next serve, but he couldn't even see what happened after Sanada curled his right arm across his body. All he knew was that the ball had somehow landed at his feet and Sanada stood with his racket held above his head in a way that inexplicably reminded him of a samurai that had just cut his opponent in half with a sword.

"Swift like the wind," Sanada declared, which seemed to trigger Jackal to announce the final tally. ("Game Set, won by Sanada. Six games to two.")

There were times throughout the game when he had been plagued by fatigue, but exhaustion nearly overwhelmed Fuji now that he knew the game was over. The loss stung, but not as much as it could have. He had straddled a line between being cautious and reckless during the last two games. It had allowed him to develop, in a matter of minutes, three strong variations to the triple counters he had been crafting since elementary school. If he was faced with challenges like that on a daily basis, who knew how far he could carry his potential?

With those thoughts in his mind, Fuji approached the net to exchange the traditional sportsman-like handshake. But instead of offering his hand over the net, Sanada folded his arms across his chest and fixed Fuji in place with a stern glare. Fuji reflexively swallowed, faced again with that speculative gleam in his eyes that he had yet to identify.

"That counter-puncher style will only carry you so far if you rely on the same techniques over and over. To compete on the national level requires more variation, more aggression, and more power than you displayed today."

It took Fuji a moment to realize Sanada was critiquing his tennis style rather than spouting the pleasantries (like how good the game was, or how talented their opponent was) that pretty much all athletes exchanged at the end of a match, whether they meant them or not. He squeaked out a wordless protest before it was crushed and cast aside by Sanada's next observation.

"The footwork of your right-left dash is too sloppy. You need more conditioning to clean that up. You have a habit of lunging too far to the right when you're about to smash, and you overcompensate when forced to use your backhand by shifting your balance too far to the left."

"Anything else?" Fuji interrupted pleasantly, although he was itching to physically work out his frustration after being ripped apart so callously...and in front of an audience.

Sanada nodded and continued down his unseen checklist. "Although you have a good grasp on how to control the movement of the ball with your racket, the methods you use to manipulate the spin are too flashy. Anyone with half a brain can predict your intentions as long as they use their eyes. Your creativity in crafting counter-techniques is astounding, but you allow yourself to reuse the techniques you are most comfortable with rather than continue to push against your limits. And most importantly," he tacked on, pausing to take a deep breath, "you honor your commitments. Your tenacity to see your obligations through to their end, regardless of the temporary hardships you personally incur, is a credit to your fighting spirit."

Sanada unfolded his arms and extended his hand across the net. "I look forward to testing your skills again after you transfer."

Fuji's jaw opened and closed, but he was initially speechless. "I...That is, the decision about that...I still need to..." While he uncharacteristically stammered through one incomplete excuse after another, Fuji failed to notice the frown darkening the other boy's face.

" _Tarundoru_!" Sanada thundered. Some dormant instinct of self-preservation had him take a step away from the _fukubuchou_ before he realized Sanada had stalked over to the Rikkai bench to collect a stack of paper, which Yukimura serenely handed to him. Fuji hesitantly trailed behind him, jerking back again when Sanada silently thrust the paperwork at him. He accepted the papers with a dip of his head and began flipping through them.

The packet contained all of the forms he would need to complete the transfer. There was information about sitting for the transfer exam, the conduct code for the school and the tennis club (courtesy of the club adviser), and even a training menu that addressed all of the flaws in his playing style Sanada had just listed in detail...plus a few others. When he reached the personal background and academic history sections, he raised an eyebrow after seeing that the majority of the spaces were already filled out. It was a little creepy that they had already gathered that much data on portions of his life unrelated to tennis, but at the same time it was heartwarming to know that at least part of the team was already embracing the idea of adding him to their numbers. Fuji looked up to check each of their reactions for himself.

Sanada seemed annoyed that Fuji was slow to embrace the transfer process instead of moving at his brisk pace, but otherwise satisfied that Fuji would fit into the team. Yanagi was calmly awaiting a coherent response, probably double-checking the calculations for how he predicted Fuji would respond. Marui popped a bubble from where he was sitting on the ground, then grinned at Fuji. Jackal was equally as encouraging when Fuji's eye passed over him. There was a similar gleam of approval in both Yagyu and Nioh's eyes, although Yagyu's cultured smile was a far cry from Nioh's approving smirk. Sitting in front of them on the bench, Akaya was pouting. When he felt Fuji scrutinizing him, Akaya defiantly picked up his head and mouthed a warning to the _tensai_ : "I'll crush you."

Fuji laughed.

That only left one person.

Yukimura used his hands to push him up into a standing position for the first time all day, refusing Sanada's assistance with a shake of his head when the other boy moved in to help. His head drooped down a fraction and he briefly struggled to catch his breath, but then he straightened up and resembled the charismatic leader Fuji encountered by chance in a Tokyo tennis club last autumn.

"Fuji-kun, months ago you told me that the part of tennis you enjoyed most was drawing out the potential of your opponents. You've been stuck on the idea that it can only be attained if you are facing an opponent on the court." Yukimura smiled gently. "I hope we showed you today that there are more ways to achieve the same objective. If you keep pushing for your own skills to evolve, others will notice and be equally driven to improve their play so that, when the day arrives that you do meet on the courts, you can all play at your peak condition from the start."

"Fuji Syusuke," Yukimura stated formally, "Rikkaidai Fuzoku is extending an invitation to you to transfer into the third year class of their junior high division, where you would be eligible to compete with the regular squad of the tennis club as they embark on a journey to capture their third consecutive national team championship. The transfer would be effective at the start of the new term in April. Do you accept?"

Although the conversation was strictly between Yukimura and Fuji, the entire team waited anxiously for Fuji's response.

"Ultimately, the final decision is up to my parents," Fuji cautioned them all. "I've already discussed whether transferring was possible when I explained why I was coming here today, and they seem to agree that this transfer could be just as good for my academics as it would be for my tennis, but I won't know for sure until we talk it over again." Fuji hesitated, and directed his next comment directly to Yukimura. "Even after I traveled here this morning, I still wasn't sure coming here was the right decision. But...I think I know now. It might not always be comfortable, but growing isn't always a pleasant experience."

"Thank you."

* * *

Later that night, after dusk had fallen and he had safely arrived back at home from the trip back into Tokyo, Fuji spread the various forms and papers he had been given across his bed.

In one stack, he sorted all of the papers that dealt with the tennis club - the extra responsibilities that came with being part of the regulars, as well as the privileges, and the training schedule he would be expected to start following immediately. He glanced over the suggested dietary changes and the wrist and ankle weight increments he should adhere to, pausing out of necessity when an express warning to remove all weights before sleeping caused him to laugh so hard he lost his breath. He wondered if Rikkai had run into a problem where someone voluntarily wore their weights to bed and ended up injuring themselves...and if so, who the victim was. A smile was still on his lips as he stacked those papers on top of his bookshelf between his computer monitor and his record player.

Fuji set the forms that required information about his personal background and academic history to the side. There would be time at some point during the week to double-check the accuracy of the responses. (Although, if Yanagi was responsible for gathering that information as Fuji suspected, there would probably be very little missing or incorrect. It was frightening how much information could be accumulated by someone who was both intelligent and thorough.)

That meant that the remaining papers dealt with the exam that all students applying for a transfer were required to pass before their admittance would be approved. Sanada had warned him before he left that the exam was going to be held on the upcoming Saturday. The Rikkai team had somehow conspired to make the arrangements for him to take it already (Fuji really didn't want to know the details), but it only gave him less than a week to prepare. Several of them had dropped hints that, as a _tensai_ , he shouldn't have any difficulty with it.

Fuji had viewed formal education not too differently than tennis - he was content to coast on his natural intelligence, but it was rare for him to apply himself. That was going to have to change immediately, since he would have a lot of studying to do in only a few days. Subjects like music, fine arts, health and physical education wouldn't really be tested, but he would be expected to know a wide cross-section of material in the areas of Japanese language, social studies (history, geography, civics), mathematics, science, and possibly foreign languages. It would be a rigorous review to prepare for. There were enough broad topics that he could devote each day this week to a new subject, reviewing both everything he learned in the subject to this point as well as what he might be expected to know next year. Placement tests were usually designed so that you could only get a top score if you were above the curve...which meant reading ahead on top of his review.

For tonight, he needed to get some rest. In the morning he would wake up early to fit in some independent training, slipping some of the new exercises into his routine if he could find the right weights. He would have to devote the afternoon to the first of his intensive review sessions. While he was training, he would have to brainstorm a reason to excuse himself from the company of his friends for the week. It would have been nice to ask them for help, especially a competent student like Tezuka, but that would require explaining _why_ he needed to review such a massive amount of material in a matter of days. You could never tell what the future could bring, and Fuji didn't want to jinx his relationships at Seigaku in case things didn't work out with the transfer to Rikkai.

He would just have to keep moving forward on his own for now. It helped that Yukimura and Sanada had shoved him onto this path by refusing to accept his excuses about why he wasn't good enough or why a transfer might not work. As long as he didn't dwell on what he stood to lose if he failed, he could fix his eyes on the future and begin crafting it with his own hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A decision is made. In order to forge new bonds, sometimes old ones must be broken. Exactly how will Fuji's choice affect the other members of the Seigaku tennis club? The time has come to reveal to them what their tensai has been up to.


	7. Resignation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A decision is made. In order to forge new bonds, sometimes old ones must be broken. Exactly how will Fuji's choice affect the other members of the Seigaku tennis club? The time has come to reveal to them what their tensai has been up to.

_February 20, 2006_

_Correct...Correct..._ Not _correct. Eh...looks like they inverted the third fraction when they copied it. What a pity. The work looks right, so their answer would have been correct if that had been the problem assigned._  
 _  
_Sumire noted the mistake in the margin, cautioning the student to double-check their starting numbers before diving into solving the proportionality equations, and added the worksheet to a stack in the corner of her desk. It was a good note to wrap up on. Despite the pressure of preparing for their high school entrance exams, her students were still performing well this term. There always seemed to be a few students that struggled balancing the new material with reviewing their old lessons, but she didn't have anyone that was hopelessly behind or refusing to make an effort to catch up to the class. It was such a relief when the students weathered the annual storm of stress in relative good health.

She swiveled her chair around so that she could glance out the window, taking advantage of the extra few minutes of free time before the school day officially began to observe the orderly chaos of students streaming onto the Seishun Gakuen campus. Sometimes, it was hard to believe how long she had worked at this school. It wouldn't be long before her own flesh and blood would be mingling down in the courtyard, chatting with friends or rushing off to class. Thankfully, there were two full years of junior high activities to look forward to before Sakuno would be in the same position as her current crop of third year students.

A knock on the sliding door pulled Sumire back to the present day. It was a little unusual for students to drop by before the weekly assembly. Other than herself, the staff room was already empty. Some teachers had already finished their morning responsibilities and left for the auditorium. The others who were overseeing morning club activities, particularly those of the spring sports teams, wouldn't stop in until their free or lunch period. It would be a shame if she had to turn a student away without being able to help them so early in the week.

"Come in!"

Sumire was relieved when she recognized the student that stepped through the doorway. Perhaps she didn't have to start the week on a negative note after all.

"Ah, Fuji! Come in! What brings you by?"

Fuji smiled for having received such a warm greeting. Any honest teacher would confess that, despite their best efforts not to "play favorites", there were always students that wormed their way deeply into their hearts. For Sumire, those students were the members of the boys' tennis club and, in particular, her Regulars. She had been the club's coach for several decades, but each batch of Regulars had their own accomplishments that made her burst with pride.

"Club business, Ryuzaki-sensei," Fuji answered. "I know you prefer us to handle that during the lunch break or at the start of practice after-school, but I don't think this should wait."

"It's fine," Sumire assured him, although her concern was starting to spike. Fuji had been absent from club activities for a few days around the start of the month at the request of his parents, but he had been back at practice a week later and playing sharper than ever. She hadn't given the question much thought, although admittedly her attention had been focused on soothing the fears of her third year students who were counting down the final days before they sat for their entrance exams.

Seeing the normally pleasant boy standing before her with such a grave expression on his face worried her. Sumire had a feeling that whatever pulled Fuji away from the tennis club a few weeks ago was rearing its head again. If he was having any trouble, either academically or with his peers, she would do whatever she could to help one of _her_ students. "What can I do for you?"

Without wasting time on words, Fuji offered a piece of paper to her from across the desk. Sumire extended her hand to accept it and quickly scanned it. She recognized it immediately, seeing as she was responsible for printing up a few dozen of the forms at the start of every school year for her club, but she was caught so far off-guard by being handed one from Fuji that her disbelief clouded her comprehension. Her eyes finally settled on the straightforward heading - Club Resignation - until she was composed enough to speak.

"Fuji, are you resigning from the tennis club?"

He nodded his head, eyes pinched shut.

Sumire allowed the form to drift out of her hand and settle onto the empty space in the center of her desk. "Fuji..." she began, breaking off with a shake of her head before starting again. "Could you tell me why you're resigning? You're not having trouble with another club member, are you?" If there was any bullying or malicious taunting making its rounds in her club, she wanted to know immediately. It was bad enough that they had almost lost Tezuka the year before, both in terms of his individual potential and what he meant for the team as a whole, but she would throw a fit if she found out she had been oblivious to the suffering of her second strongest player.

Fuji shook his head reassuringly, his smile a little wry but less forced. "No, Ryuzaki-sensei. I'm getting along fine with everyone."

He paused to collect himself. "I'm resigning because in a few weeks it will be impossible for me to stay in the tennis club. When the new term begins, I'm going to be transferring schools." Sumire could feel her mouth drop open in surprise, which Fuji seemed to expect. "I just received the results yesterday, and I wanted to be as courteous as possible to you and the team as soon as I knew for sure that I'd be leaving."

(It had taken him several cups of his sister's herbal tea and nearly a half-hour practicing delivering the news to the mirror earlier that morning before he could explain the circumstances in such an easy-going manner. It was a far-cry from how anxiously he had sat at his computer and refreshed the website where the exam results were electronically posted until the blind scores were finally available.)

Sumire was still in her initial stage of shock, but the truth of the situation was sinking in. The part of her brain that was still resisting the news convinced her to remain silent a little longer, just to make sure that this wasn't an elaborate joke that Fuji had concocted. The boy had a peculiar sense of humor at times. She couldn't think of a time when his jokes hurt anyone, but his targets often walked away embarrassed. Unfortunately, there was nothing in his demeanor that hinted he was teasing about transferring at the start of the new term. "You're right," she lamented with a sigh. "That can't be helped, then."

Leaning back in the chair, Sumire clapped her hands as if to dispel the tension. "I'm sure you'll do fine at your new school," she said confidently. "Your parents must already be very proud of you."

Even as the words were leaving her mouth, Sumire wondered what _was_ going through the minds of Fuji's parents. "Ah, Fuji, if you don't mind me asking, are your parents disappointed with Seigaku? Your brother also..."

Fuji was shaking his head before she could finish her question. "Another school recruited me, actually," he admitted. "My father was impressed with their educational standards and emphasis on integrating with the international community. Once an offer was made, he and my mother encouraged me to accept." Sumire hadn't personally met Fuji's father before, but the explanation matched what little she knew about the man. After all, it was because his business carried him out of the country that he couldn't attend his son's big matches last summer.

"I see." Even though her attention was already being diverted to her third years last autumn, she also remembered the way Fuji's younger brother had also been recruited by a small private school after someone spotted him playing at a private tennis club. "Then, you'll be joining your brother?"

Again, Fuji shook his head negatively.

"Oh?" That surprised her. Maybe her perspective was too narrow. She had heard rumors that his camera skills were among the best in the photography club, but she assumed that Fuji would have been recruited for his tennis ability. Even if he was recruited for some other reason, she couldn't see Fuji abandoning tennis.

"So, does the team have to worry about the chance of facing you on the opposite side of the net next year?" she asked teasingly.

Fuji's eyes uncomfortably scanned the ground. "The possibility exists," he admitted, "although not until the regional tournament at the earliest."

Sumire was a little surprised by that qualification. Fuji was implying that he wouldn't be in Tokyo anymore, but he hadn't mentioned anything about his family moving. There were only so many schools close that were close enough to Seigaku and matched all of the elements he had described. She had a sinking suspicion she knew exactly what school he would be transferring into.

"Are you going to tell me what school is so lucky to steal you away from us?" she asked gently.

Fuji's answer was soft but firm: "Rikkaidai Fuzoku."

Sumire was unsure of what to say first. Simply congratulate him on being accepted into such an elite academic institution? Or point out that, in a school with such a strong tennis program, he might miss out on playing competitive scholastic tennis in his final year of junior high? She finally smiled, remembering that Fuji was not the type of person to act impulsively. He would have already considered that problem.

"So, did you get recruited for your tennis?" she asked. Fuji nodded affirmatively. "And...?" Sumire asked with exaggerated patience.

Fuji dipped his head and chuckled, recognizing that Sumire was asking because she cared about him even if he wasn't going to be her responsibility for much longer...and he wasn't being very forthcoming. "I'll be playing," he admitted with pride.

The old coach smiled brightly despite sighing. "Fuji," she explained, "one of the most difficult parts of coaching the tennis club is saying goodbye to them when their time at Seigaku comes to an end. I expected to have one more year before I would have to say goodbye to you, but that doesn't make me any less proud of you. I wish you the best of luck at your new school." Her grin turned teasing again, an expression the tennis club members had learned meant that practice was going to be even more brutal than usual. "You're going to need it, you know? Seigaku is aiming for nationals this year. We'll be ready to challenge Rikkai at the Kanto tournament."

The taunt succeeded in drawing out another genuine smile from Fuji. "Thank you," he said, bowing deeply at the waist before turning to leave. Sumire thought he looked more at ease than he had when he knocked on the door a few minutes ago. He was probably relieved that she had taken the news as well as she had instead of yelling at him for abandoning the team for a potential rival. Although he still looked a little grim...

Then she realized that it might not be _her_ reaction he was most concerned about.

"Fuji," she called. He pivoted back around and tilted his head to the side inquisitively.

"Fuji," she repeated, "have you told anyone on the team yet?"

His smile momentarily dimmed, but forcefully perked up.

"I'm on my way to speak to Tezuka now," he confessed. Before she could offer any advice, he vanished into the hallway.

~II~II~II~

The heaviness encumbering each step Fuji took had nothing to do with the weights strapped around his ankles. Ryuzaki-sensei had handled his resignation well. Although he expected no less from a professional such as herself, it was still a relief to part from the Seigaku tennis club on good terms with at least one person. Plus, since she _was_ the club's supervisor, he could have passed the responsibility of explaining to the team why he was no longer attending practices onto her.

But making Ryuzaki-sensei explain the situation to his teammates - and more importantly, his _friends_ \- was too cowardly for Fuji to seriously consider for long.

These were the people that he trained alongside and relied upon, not just to win their tennis matches but to commiserate with about difficult school assignments or the latest embarrassing activity their parents had dragged them into. He owed it to them to tell them the truth directly.

No matter how painful it would be.

Fuji was certain it would be painful, which was why he dreaded seeking out Tezuka to have this conversation. How could it be anything _less_ than painful when he knew that he would be crushing the dreams of a good friend?

Even without him on the team, Fuji had faith that the remaining members of the Seigaku team would rally together and forge a path to Nationals. But even if their best effort was good enough to take them to that elite tournament, it hurt to know that he would not be standing by their side. That was betraying a promise that had been made between a group of optimistic first years.

That hot afternoon they spent picking up loose balls and cleaning the court felt like it was so long ago. After the small group of first years had pitched in to help their future leader's punishment pass by that much more quickly, Tezuka had promised that he would take all of them to Nationals by the third year. Even at that point, Fuji had heard the unspoken promise - Tezuka aimed to win the national championship as well, with his teammates by his side to share in the glory. Tezuka did not speak of that promise often, but Fuji was certain that Tezuka still thought of it often. He would even bet that Tezuka mentally added the current group of first years - nearly second years, already - into his vow.

And by transferring, he would be tearing away a piece of the team that Tezuka imagined he would lead to Nationals.

Even though he had been preparing for this day for weeks now, he was no closer to figuring out how to break the news to Tezuka that he would be transferring to Rikkai. If he was being honest, there was still a part of himself that doubted transferring was the correct decision to make. For all of the uncertainty that he still felt, telling Tezuka would be the moment that made the decision feel irreversible. Realistically, he had passed the point of no-return long ago. Word was bound to have eventually trickled back that he was considering transferring out of Seigaku as soon as he arranged the try-out with Sanada. But as silly as it was, telling Tezuka face-to-face about his transfer was the milestone that felt like it would cement his decision.

As he walked into the hall where the weekly assembly was held, Fuji's eyes swept around the room searching for the familiar figure of his classmate. The room was filling with bodies and voices, but Tezuka's height made him easy to spot above the crowd. Once he got closer to Tezuka, he could see that the other boy's attention was fixed on an open book in his hand. Fuji thought he recognized the writing on the cover as belonging to the German language.  
No doubt, Tezuka was taking advantage of the few minutes of free time he had to catch up on some reading that suited his personal interests. It wouldn't be too long before Tezuka lost even this little bit of time for himself, as the tennis club began preparing for the tournament season by holding practice twice a day.

Not that he would be present for those.

"Good morning, Tezuka."

Despite the surrounding noise level, the soft spoken greeting successfully attracted the taller youth's attention. Tezuka lifted his eyes from his book and critically studied his friend's smiling face.

"Fuji," Tezuka said in acknowledgment, closing his book a moment later. "Good morning."

Fuji's mouth opened slightly, but it soon locked in that position. He still hadn't decided what words would be proper to break the news to Tezuka. For his part, Tezuka turned back to the front of the assembly hall and lifted his chin. To anyone less familiar with his mannerisms, the gesture might have been interpreted as a sign that Tezuka wasn't interested in hearing anything Fuji had to say. After nearly two years, Fuji knew better. It was a sweet gesture, actually. Tezuka had noticed his hesitation and was giving him a chance to compose himself.

While Tezuka might have been willing to give Fuji more time, the school administration wasn't. Before Fuji could utter a single word, the school bell began ringing over the school's audio system. Fuji bit his lip, annoyed at the terrible timing. Amidst the room filling with the rest of the school body and the principal preparing to deliver his weekly address from the podium, Tezuka turned his head back to Fuji. "Lunch?" he asked. Fuji smiled gratefully and nodded. He could always count on Tezuka to be hyper-aware of the needs of the people around him. It was what made him such a respected leader, whether it was with the tennis club or the student council.

Fuji had wanted to handle this conversation before classes began, before his anxiousness could build too high, but he would have to wait until the lunch hour to handle it now. As he had feared, throughout the walk to the classroom after the assembly and the lessons that began shortly thereafter, his mind persistently conjured scenario upon scenario of how his conversation with Tezuka might unfold.

It wasn't unusual for his mind to drift during class. He particularly enjoyed gazing out the window and watching the activity on the school grounds. Thanks to that, he had developed a knack for keeping one ear open for questions posed by his teachers. Staying at least partially aware of the lessons kept him from getting into too much trouble, and the teachers had long ago stopped trying to drag him out of his daydreaming. That worked to his advantage on a day like today, when his attention was totally consumed by his internal problems.

Fuji hadn't realized how distracted he really was until Tezuka was standing next to his desk, _bento_ in hand, and a slightly disapproving expression in his eyes. Sure enough, the lunch hour was already upon them. Fuji's smile turned sheepish at being caught with his guard down as he stood. "Shall we go to the roof?" he inquired.

Tezuka nodded and, once Fuji picked up his lunch, the two walked in companionable silence up the stairs to the top of the school.

The moment they pushed the door open and walked out onto the rooftop, a brisk wind whipped at the loose edges of their uniforms and blew their hair into disarray. It was an unusually warm winter day - warm enough that it wouldn't be uncomfortably cold to sit outside without a coat on - but the wind made the temperature feel much lower than it actually was. The assault calmed once they reached a corner of the roof that was mostly sheltered from the chilly breeze.

Inui had stumbled across the spot by accident one day, as it was also the best vantage point from which to view the tennis courts from above, and word had spread about the unique qualities of the spot. Fuji laced his fingers in the wire fence, peering down at the courts. There were several small figures dashing back and forth on either side of the nets. Undoubtedly, some of the younger students were taking the opportunity to practice in preparation for the next ranking matches or to sneak in a game against their friends while the _sempai_ were occupied elsewhere.

There were a number of students milling around the campus, but the pair perched on the rooftop were immune to the bustle of the activities taking place on the ground. Up on the roof, it was quiet and private - the ideal location to have a serious conversation without fear of being overheard.

The combination of privacy and having the entire lunch period to discuss Fuji's situation made the conditions much better than his original plan of trying to squeeze a hurried conversation in before class began. Fuji wondered if Tezuka had led him to this private spot because he could still sense his anxiousness. Then, he laughed at himself for being so silly. Could there have been any other reason?

Fuji placed his bento on his lap and folded his hands on top of it. He wouldn't allow himself the luxury of fiddling with it as a distraction. Procrastinating wouldn't make things any easier.

"Tezuka...no, _Buchou_."

The switch from name to title would tip Tezuka off about the direction of the conversation, as well as how serious he was. Other than during congratulations after he was first elevated to the position, Fuji never addressed Tezuka as _buchou_.

"Earlier this morning, I handed Ryuzaki-sensei my resignation for the tennis club."

Fuji let the announcement hang in the air. Tezuka did not immediately respond, choosing instead to stare intently at Fuji. Fuji briefly met his gaze and was relieved that Tezuka's expression showed no signs of suspecting that Fuji was making a joke. Tezuka believed him, even if he didn't yet understand. "Why?"

Not wanting to repeat the guessing game that he accidentally played with Ryuzaki-sensei, Fuji finally reached the conclusion that blunt honesty would be the best way to deal with Tezuka. "I'll be transferring to Rikkai when the new term begins."

Tezuka's expression, his flawless poker face, didn't even twitch in response to Fuji's answer. Tezuka took a bite from his lunch, chewing thoughtfully. After he swallowed, he turned calmly to Fuji. "Will you play?"

The question was just as multi-layered as it had been when Fuji spoke with Ryuzaki-sensei. Not only would an affirmative answer mean that he would be playing tennis, but it would mean that he had participated in a try-out for another team without any warning to his current captain. Suppressing the guilt he felt for acting behind Tezuka's back, Fuji unconsciously nodded. "I will."

"Ah."

Tezuka's inscrutable demeanor finally cracked, the lines around his mouth tightening in response to his sudden disappointment. He lived by the motto of moving through life without regrets, yet Fuji had brought back memories of the biggest regret he had in his young tennis career with that announcement. He regretted not being able to play Fuji at full strength. He regretted not being able to push Fuji to use a more serious style because his injury continued to hold him back.

Mixed in with that regret, however, was pride. He understood that transferring to Rikkai and training with the squad that had won the national championships the previous two years was a tremendous opportunity. Fuji had a chance to realize his potential, and that pleased Tezuka.

For a moment, he set aside the role of tennis club captain and studied Fuji as a friend. "Why now?"

Fuji inhaled deeply, unsure of how to answer. "Yukimura, I suppose," he answered slowly. The memory of the Rikkai captain stumbling across him at the tennis club by chance flashed through his mind.

"And Yuuta too, a little bit." Fuji thought back to the friendly match against his brother, and Yuuta's encouragement to accept Rikkai's offer, regardless of what the fall-out might eventually be.

"Yuuta...he had to leave Seigaku in order to grow into the person he wanted to be." Fuji's voice softened, unable to completely suppress the lingering guilt of not being able to protect Yuuta from being saddled with the reputation of being the _tensai_ 's little brother. "After speaking with Yukimura a few times, I realized that I might be more like my brother than I had thought."

"He invited me to play against his team," Fuji said casually. "I didn't agree at first, but Yukimura can be very persistent when he chooses to be." He chuckled. "I learned that the hard way. He was incredibly charismatic when he was healthy, but I think his charm only strengthened after he was hospitalized," Fuji mused.

Fuji glanced over at Tezuka, noting that his earlier mention of playing against Rikkai had piqued his friend's interest. He decided to cut to the chase. "I ended up playing Sanada," he announced cheerfully. In the same tone, he added "I lost quite badly, too."

"You know, Tezuka," he said, briefly veering off the topic, "whatever happened during the match you played against him before middle school, it affected him very deeply. He badly wants a rematch against you." Fuji tilted his head back, watching a pair of birds circling above them in the sky. "Although, if it's supposed to be a secret, it's not kept very well."

Tezuka grunted, which Fuji interpreted as acknowledgment of the information. He thought he also detected a little humor at the situation mixed in. As he suspected, Tezuka was already aware of being the target of Sanada's ambitions.

However, Fuji refrained from mentioning that Sanada wasn't the only player waiting for a rematch.

"Tezuka, why are you playing tennis?"

The unexpected question seemed to startle Tezuka. He brushed his fingertips against the arms of his glasses, as if the gesture would help him see Fuji better. "What do you mean?" he asked rhetorically. "My goal is to take Seigaku to Nationals, no matter the cost."

Fuji nodded, as if he expected that answer. "Over the last few weeks, I realized that I made an assumption that turned out to be wrong." He picked up the unopened _bento_ on his lap and put it on the ground next to him. "For me, playing tennis was about enjoying the thrill of drawing out my opponent's potential. Even though we've played together for so long, I never understood how differently we looked at tennis."

"Rikkai was merciless," Fuji admitted, lost in his memories of that exhausting day. "They pushed me to my limits. When I broke through those, I ran into new walls. The struggle of pushing myself forward no matter the obstacle, the thrill of playing seriously...it was an amazing feeling, Tezuka."

"And once I had a taste of what being serious is like, I learned that I'm much more selfish than you are."

Tezuka would sacrifice his dream of becoming a professional tennis player if it meant fulfilling his promise to carry Seigaku to the National Tournament. Fuji, on the other hand, was willing to trade the bonds of friendship and loyalty he had forged while at Seigaku in exchange for the opportunity to advance his personal ability. As hesitant as he was about betraying the brotherhood that Seigaku fostered among the students on its sports teams, Fuji recognized that he would no longer be satisfied with merely maintaining the status quo. If he stayed, he wouldn't have the drive to improve himself. He would live under the stagnant label of the "Seigaku _tensai_ " and, eventually, he would find himself as miserable as Yuuta had been.

When Yuuta had made his decision to transfer to St. Rudolph, Fuji had consoled himself for letting Yuuta walk his own path by repeating a single expression to himself: _Only when you encounter an opponent who can make you get serious can you take the next step._

That was true, wasn't it? In each of the Rikkai players, he had found opponents that would continue to push him so that he continued to take the next step forward.

Fuji's eyes marginally widened as it finally crystallized in his mind why confronting Tezuka about this transfer was bothering him so much. He was essentially looking to Tezuka, as the representative of Seigaku, to let go of him in much the same fashion that he had to let go of Yuuta. The decision had left him an emotional wreck for weeks, and subconsciously he knew that he would be inflicting that same pain on someone he cared about.

But Fuji needed that blessing to move on to the next chapter in his life. If Tezuka asked him not to transfer, Fuji knew deep in his heart that he wouldn't be able to walk away. Rikkai would understand the loyalty he still felt for Seigaku, if the way they revered Yukimura was any indication. His parents and Yumiko-neesan would be confused about why he had been so fixated on transferring for a few weeks, only to throw it away, but they would support him in whatever decision made him happy. Yuuta would undoubtedly be disappointed with him for reverting back to his old self, but Yuuta was almost perpetually annoyed with him these days. At least a decision like that would give his younger brother a concrete reason.

Throughout those musings, Tezuka quietly studied Fuji. The changes in the smaller teenager over the past few weeks hadn't escaped his notice, but regretfully he had passed the signs off as more side-effects of the tumultuous relationship between the Fuji brothers. To come to realize that it was related to tennis, of all things, was a surprise. Tezuka remembered how unassuming Fuji normally appeared, concealing his talent even on the tennis courts until it burst free with dazzling brilliance.

It sounded like Fuji had finally found an environment that would properly nurse his potential. Tezuka regretted he couldn't provide what Fuji needed, but he wouldn't dream of asking Fuji to stay. Tezuka respected the game too much to deliberately hold anyone back, especially not a friend. As much as he would uphold his promise to Yamato-buchou to take the team to Nationals, he wouldn't drag along a member of the team that could flourish elsewhere. Just like in fishing, even though you may have a small fish on the line, it wasn't always wise to reel it in. Sometimes it was better to release it, so that it would have a chance to mature.

Tezuka slid his glasses off his face and rubbed his eyes tiredly. He wished he had a counter-argument to present, but everything he heard proved that Rikkai could offer Fuji what he physically could not - at least, not as he currently was. He would need to be at full strength in order to achieve that goal, and he was secretly afraid that he would never be completely healthy again.

Fuji gently touched his shoulder, intuitively understanding the turn Tezuka's thoughts had taken. They had always excelled at wordless communication, ever since they spent that afternoon silently picking up tennis balls next to each other. "I'm sorry, Tezuka."

"Eh? Fuji's apologizing to Tezuka?"

Fuji glimpsed only a dark blur, topped with red, before he felt another set of hands capture his wrists and tug him to his feet. When he regained his bearings from the surprise attack, he found himself practically nose-to-nose with a petulant Kikumaru Eiji. Peering over his friend's shoulder, he was unsurprised to see that Oishi was also hovering worriedly nearby.

"Fuji, what are you apologizing for? You two weren't even talking just then!"

By watching how quickly Oishi's face paled in response to Eiji's words, he deduced that the Golden Pair must have been hovering nearby for a few minutes. Not long enough to overhear Fuji discuss transferring out of Seigaku, since Eiji was bound to have mentioned _that_ by now, but enough to notice that they weren't eating their lunches and were sitting in pensive silence. Being the concerned friends that they were, Eiji had taken matters into his own hands and interrupted the non-conversation...dragging Oishi along for the ride.

Fuji's smiled faltered as Eiji continued peppering him with questions. He didn't want to shoulder the responsibility of breaking the news to two more friends so closely on the heels of talking with Tezuka. With Eiji already wound up, he worried that the conversation wouldn't go well at all.

"Oishi." Each of the individuals on the rooftop turned to the unexpected interruption from Tezuka. "Please make sure that the Regulars remain in the clubroom for a meeting after practice today. There's an important matter we need to discuss."

"O-of course, Tezuka," Oishi stammered.

"Eh! What is it? Oishi, do you know what it is?"

Successfully distracted by the lure of a new mystery, Eiji released Fuji and bounced over to his partner. As he began grilling Oishi for answers, Fuji smiled thankfully at Tezuka. Announcing his departure after practice would give him time to regain his composure...and one last opportunity to play with his Seigaku teammates.

~III~III~III~III~

"Good practice, everyone!"

The positive message echoed by player after player as they entered the locker room was barely audible thanks to the deafening noise level following the tennis team's afternoon practice. With the sounds of equipment being packed up mixing with the adrenaline-fueled boasts of various players, it was a wonder that anyone could still hear themselves think.

Fuji sat on a bench across from his cubby with an amused smile on his face. The conditions around him were certainly chaotic, but watching the familiar bustle made his chest tingle with warmth.

He wished he had thought to bring his camera with him to school today. It would have been nice to take a picture for his scrapbook to memorialize his final day as a member of the tennis club. Instead, he would have to settle for a mental snapshot of his Seigaku family.

" _Ne_ , Fuji, Oishi's being so mean to me!" A half-dressed Eiji half-tripped into a seat on the bench next to Fuji. It was one of the little signs that the acrobat was still adjusting to the new lengths of his limbs after his recent growth spurt. "He wouldn't tell me why Tezuka called for a meeting of the Regulars all afternoon. Not even during practice! Some partner he is." Eiji puffed his cheeks out to show his annoyance.

"Eiji, I doubt Oishi knows the reason why," Fuji gently pointed out. "You interrupted Tezuka before he could explain what the meeting was for, remember?"

"Oh." Eiji's cheeks quickly deflated while his hands froze in the middle of pushing through a button to his school shirt. "I forgot that." He laughed sheepishly and finished buttoning his shirt.

Eiji jumped up from the bench and turned to walk back to where the rest of his clothes were piled. "Ah! That's right!" He spun back around and planted his hands on his hips. "Fuji, you never told me what you and Tezuka were fighting about!"

"Eh? Fuji and Tezuka were arguing? Good data..."

Fuji silently bemoaned that most of the students had finished changing and left for home, making it convenient for those remaining to overhear Eiji's comments. "We weren't fighting about anything," he responded calmly.

"Then why were you apologizing? Something was wrong during lunch, and you won't tell me what!"

"Eiji, maybe they'd like to keep it private," Karamura hesitantly interjected from a nearby bench. He was already completely dressed, and looking a little uncomfortable at more than just Eiji's persistent questions. He had been asked to remain for the meeting after practice, even though he wasn't a Regular and had no idea what the meeting was about.

"What are you talking about, Taka-san?" Momoshiro chimed in, cheerfully clasping an arm around the back of his _sempai_. "This is a chance to learn a secret about Buchou and Fuji-sempai! You can't pass that up, you just can't!"

"Fshhu. Only an idiot would need to gossip about his _sempai_ ," Kaidoh muttered without looking up, intent on neatly folding his signature orange bandanna.

Momo leapt to his feet in response to the insult. "What was that, Viper?" Kaidoh tucked his treasured bandanna into his bag and stood toe-to-toe with Momoshiro. Fuji would have amused himself with the bickering between the two rivals, particularly the way the spikes in Momo's hair somehow became even more pronounced when he got fired up, except Eiji had renewed his efforts to pester Fuji until he revealed the reason for his mysterious apology. Combined with Kawamura's gentle attempts to intervene on Fuji's behalf, the volume in the locker room once again began to climb despite the low number of occupants.

"Everyone, quiet down!"

Tezuka strode into the locker room, Oishi slowly trailing behind him. The room immediately went silent. No one wanted to risk drawing Tezuka's attention when he was trying to conduct club business.

As he walked over to Eiji, Fuji glanced at Oishi. The _fukubuchou_ was rubbing his forehead nervously, drawing attention to the two wisps of bangs that he had started growing out after the new year. Oishi looked like he had just received an unpleasant shock and wasn't sure how to react.

Fuji's eyebrows rose. He instinctively sought out Tezuka to confirm his suspicions. When their eyes met, the Seigaku _buchou_ nodded. Tezuka had already delivered the news to Oishi.

It might have been cowardly, but Fuji was relieved that Tezuka had lightened his burden. That was one less person he was responsible for telling...as well as one more person to help control the inevitable explosion from Eiji.

Tezuka cleared his throat, once again prompting the room to settle down and direct their attention to their _buchou_. "Fuji has an announcement," he said abruptly, stepping back to figuratively hand the floor to Fuji.

"Thank you, Tezuka." Fuji fluidly stood and walked a few feet so that he could clearly see everyone. He paused before speaking, drinking in the sight of his team.

The curiously puzzled expression of Eiji as he wrapped his arm around his legs and tucked his chin on his knees.  
The light glinting off Inui's glasses as he readied his pen to write on a blank page in his faithful notebook.  
The rapt attention of Momoshiro as he instinctively anticipated the perfect moment to interrupt with a joke.  
The annoyance that never seemed to fade from Kaidoh's eyes unless he was training, tempered with the respect he felt he owed his _sempai_.  
The gentle smile on Kawamura's face as he waited to hear what Fujiko had to say.  
The innate concern that palpitated from Oishi, even as he struggled through his own shock to come to terms with Fuji's announcement.  
And, of course, the steady support of Seigaku's pillar, Tezuka, even as Fuji threatened to undermine the stability of that very pillar.

Each of them would still be here tomorrow, the day after, and even the weeks and months after that, but after this moment he would no longer be able to claim any type of possession over them. Fuji glanced at Tezuka again, indulging in the strength of their team's pillar to carry him through his announcement.

"Everyone, at the start of the new term, I'm going to be transferring to a different school. Therefore, as of today, I am resigning from the Seigaku tennis club."

The room was silent in the wake of the announcement. To Fuji's surprise, it was the two youngest in the room that responded first. Kaidoh released a distraught hiss under his breath, which spurred his rival into action. Momoshiro stood, hands trembling. "Fuji-sempai, you can't leave us," he said, voice growing into a shout. "You just can't!"

"Momoshiro!" Tezuka said sharply. The rascal snapped his mouth shut and sat down again, but the look of betrayal continued to stain his expression.

Fuji felt a tug on his sleeve. When he turned, Eiji was staring at him with wide, teary eyes. "That can't be true, _nya_ Fuji?" His jaw quivered and he sniffed loudly. "That's a terrible joke. Is that why you apologized to Tezuka, you told him that awful joke? Well, you should have! That's not funny at all!" He took a shuddering breath, fingers clutching at Fuji's sleeve. "Fuji!"

The _tensai_ 's smile softened as he wrapped Eiji in a one-armed hug. "I'm sorry, Eiji, but it's not a joke."

Eiji looked up, intent on demanding that Tezuka order Fuji to stop carrying on his cruel joke, but his line of vision passed across Oishi first. Pity was pooling painfully in his partner's eyes. Thanks to the silent communication the Golden Pair was famous for around the circuit, Eiji knew he couldn't hold onto the hope that this was all some type of a practical joke. He whimpered and leaned into Fuji's hug, craving the contact as if he expected his friend to disappear at any moment.

Fuji turned to Inui, expecting the data master to begin digging for details of Fuji's impending transfer, but it was the quietest member of the group that asked the next logical question. "Where are you going, Fujiko?" Taka asked.

"Rikkaidai Fuzoku," he answered, squeezing Eiji's shoulder comfortingly.

The somber atmosphere ensured it was quiet enough that the sudden clattering of a pen against the ground drew everyone's attention. Fuji watched with concern as Inui made no attempt to pick it up. He remembered Yanagi passing a comment about his old partnership with Inui on the elementary doubles circuit while they discussed his test results on the phone yesterday. Fuji wondered if it was the product of his imagination, or if he really saw a haunting look of betrayal etched on emerald eyes before the thick lenses of Inui's glasses permanently obscured them from view. Even if it wasn't his imagination, Fuji was unsure if Inui felt that Fuji's decision was a betrayal, or if it was merely a reflection of the unresolved issues lingering toward his former doubles partner.

"Fuji," he finally said, voice oddly hoarse, "will you be playing tennis there?"

Fuji felt the weight of the room's stare shift back to him. For the third time that day, he quietly replied with a simple: "Yes."

Inui waited a beat, then bent over and picked up the fallen pen. Although he placed the tip back to his notebook, no words were written. It seemed as if, under the weight of the unexpected news, written and spoken word alike were blanketed in choking silence.

Tezuka moved forward to stand by Fuji's other side. "It's been a privilege to play with you these past two years, Fuji. We all wish you the best of luck at your new school."

"Thank you, Tezuka," Fuji said genuinely. He glanced around the room at everyone and pressed his lips together until he was sure he was composed enough to speak without his voice breaking. "I'll miss you all very much."

Fuji extracted himself from Eiji's grip and walked over to his belongings on the bench. He picked up a white and blue garment that had been sitting innocently on the top of his equipment bag. Fuji crossed over to an empty cubby hole, the same cubby that he had claimed when he joined the club, and reverently placed the jacket inside. He turned to everyone, blocking it from view, and bowed deeply.

"Everyone, thank you."

Fuji nodded one final time at Tezuka after he collected his bags, and then swiftly exited the locker room before anyone could stop him.

He didn't have to worry. As stunned as they were, no one was capable of tearing their attention away from the sight of the proud Seigaku jersey that had just been willingly returned by its owner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Fuji straddles the past and present, looking both at where he's come from and what his future holds.


	8. Birth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fuji straddles the past and present, looking both at where he's come from and what his future holds.

_February 26, 2006_

_Congratulations! This is to confirm your acceptance into Rikkaidai Fuzoku's junior high division as a third year student. You have been assigned to class 3B. The new term begins on April 3, 2006. Please make sure that all paperwork has been submitted to the administration prior to the first day of classes. During the holiday break, the administration will have limited hours from..._

Fuji's eyes glazed over as he reached the final instructions explaining the best time and location for him to drop off his completed transfer paperwork. The description of what parts of the campus would be open during which hours hadn't changed since the first time he read through his acceptance letter. That part of the letter wasn't what he wanted to re-read, anyway.

He was officially going to Rikkai. Fuji swiveled around in his desk chair and dropped the letter onto a stack of correspondence he had accumulated from his new school. Even with so much physical proof in front of him, there were still moments when he had trouble believing that everything had come together to make his transfer a reality.

On top of the admission letter, there was a packet of paper a centimeter thick that needed to be completed by his parents, his teachers at Seigaku, and even his regular doctor. A hard copy of his exam results were also stuffed in the middle of that packet. He had done exceptionally well, considering he only crammed for a week before sitting to take the exam. His class placement would leave him little time for slacking.

And speaking of time management, buried at the bottom of the stack was the training menu and schedule for the tennis team for the next month. Attached to the schedule was a note from Yanagi informing him of a practice match against a school from the Naka District near the end of March. The matches would be held at Rikkai, so he didn't have to worry about a long trip to an unfamiliar destination. Before the practice match, however, he was expected to continue his workouts so that he could handle a game while wearing double the weights he currently trained with. He instinctively rubbed his wrists, already feeling the phantom pain of that much weight being strapped to his arms.

Lost in his thoughts, Fuji didn't realize his chair had slowly spun in a circle until he was staring at several articles of clothing hanging on his closet door. During the previous afternoon, he and his mother had taken the train to Kanagawa to pick up his school uniform. He unfolded himself from the chair and walked the short distance so he was close enough to touch the clothing. The fabric of the western-style blazer was soft beneath his fingers. His smile brightened as he glanced at the tie hooked over the shoulder of his button-down shirt. He might want to add tie-tying to his training menu. Wearing a tie was one of the only things Yuuta was willing to complain about regarding St. Rudolph in front of his brother. Fuji didn't think he would have much trouble wearing it, but there was no sense in taking a risk while he had time to master it.

Behind the dark hues of the student uniform was a second, much more eye-catching tennis uniform. The electrifying yellow was overwhelming to the senses. If not for the horizontal black blocking and white stripe with red stars running down its center, the searing yellow color could have run the risk of blinding the opponent of anyone who wore it. _'As to be expected from the defending national champions - even their uniforms are dangerous,'_ he thought in amusement, finger tracing the stylized "R" on the small patch affixed to the front of the jersey.

Impulsively, he pulled the jersey, hanger and all, down from where it was hanging. Fuji held it up to his chest and studied his reflection in the nearby mirror. His smile flipped into a tiny frown. Even if it was just an illusion, the uniform didn't look natural on him. He couldn't figure out why, other than it reminded him of a day in his early childhood when he and Yuuta had snuck into their father's closet and tried on some of his business suits. A tennis uniform, especially one for as prestigious a school as Rikkai, should not be making him feel like a little boy.

Fuji sighed, glancing at a framed picture on his desk of the Seigaku team dressed out in their tournament uniforms. There wasn't a trace of discomfort or uncertainty on any of the beaming faces of the tennis team - just pride. He wondered what he would need to do to reclaim that feeling while wearing his new uniform.

"Syusuke, guest!"

Surprised, both by the sound of his sister's voice and her announcement, Fuji quickly hooked the jersey back onto the front of his closet door and left his bedroom.

"Coming!" he called back.

Fuji wasn't expecting to have anyone stop by that afternoon, so he wasn't sure what he would find once he made his way downstairs. His pace slowed until it reached a full stop at the base of the stairs. Whatever he might have expected, a pensive Kikumaru Eiji leaning against the wall in his foyer was not high on his list. Fuji placed a hand on the banister and cleared his throat.

Eiji straightened guiltily as soon as he realized Fuji was standing in front of him. He was unnaturally quiet, opting to scuff a slippered foot against the floor rather than speak up. The atmosphere surrounding the two boys was, to say the least, awkward. Fuji hadn't spoken with Eiji since his announcement in the Seigaku clubroom nearly a week earlier. They didn't see each other anymore, what with them being in different classes, Eiji attending tennis practice twice a day, and Fuji training independently after school. The only time they could have talked was during lunch, but Fuji had deliberately avoided his teammates during that period once they were informed about his transfer. Since no one tried to find him, he assumed they either respected his wishes or didn't want to talk to him.

But Eiji wouldn't have come over to his house on the weekend unless he had something to say. The least Fuji could do was hear him out.

"Do you want to come up to my room?"

"Nya," Eiji answered affirmatively. Fuji nodded and motioned for the other boy to follow him.

The two walked silently up the stairs, back to Fuji's bedroom. Fuji nudged the door open wider and waited for Eiji to go in first. He took the hint, taking a seat on the edge of Fuji's bed and entertaining himself by studying the various knick-knacks decorating Fuji's room.

Fuji quietly closed his bedroom door and sat back down in his desk chair. He looked at his friend expectantly, only to find the acrobat's attention firmly fixed on an object in front of him. Fuji followed the direction of his friend's gaze and immediately jumped out of the chair.

"I'm sorry!" he said, nearly shouting as he started to grab the hangers to the pieces of his Rikkai uniforms. He had forgotten that the uniforms would be out in plain sight once the door to his bedroom was closed. "I wasn't expecting anyone," Fuji explained as he struggled to open the closet, "so I didn't bother to put them away."

"Fuji, stop." Eiji grabbed Fuji's shoulder with one hand, using the other to forcefully guide the hangers back to the hook they had been hanging on. After they were secure, Eiji flopped back onto Fuji's bed. "I wouldn't be a very good friend if I asked you to pretend like you won't be wearing that soon." He threw his head back, staring at the ceiling. "I haven't been a good friend to you at all this week," he admitted.

Fuji shook his head. "That's not true, Eiji. I'm really sorry. It's not like you, or _anyone_ else, did anything wrong..."

"I'm mad at you," Eiji said, cutting Fuji off. Fuji swallowed, suddenly reminded of why he had been avoiding his former teammates.

"I am really mad at you," Eiji repeated, pulling his legs up onto the bed so he was sitting cross-legged. His expression was pained when he looked back up at Fuji. "We were going to be classmates next year, but we can't do that if you're transferring!"

Fuji was surprised by the news, and his expression must have reflected that because Eiji began wagging his finger at him emphatically. "I know, shocking, right? But Inui said so! I'm not sure how he knew that," Eiji added on in a quieter voice, tilting his head to the side, "but he always manages to find out stuff like that before anyone else."

"So, I'm mad at you for ruining that and everything else we could have done together next year."

Eiji tucked his hands behind his head and turned to face Fuji, but he was distracted by the picture of the Seigaku team on Fuji's desk. He bounced off the bed and bent across the desk, staring fondly at the assembly of the full team.

"Fuji, I'm going to miss you."

Eiji turned his back to Fuji, pretending that he had moved on to reading the notes on his friend's corkboard so that the glassiness in his eyes wouldn't be obvious. He sniffled, but he soon stopped pretending and leaned in closer to actually read a note on Fuji's calendar.

"Oh." He slowly lowered his arms. In the first blank square at the end of the month, someone had written in very feminine script the words _Syusuke's Birthday_.

Eiji inhaled sharply and spun around. "That's right! Fuji, it's almost your birthday! Ah, and I didn't get you anything yet! I really am a terrible friend."

"Eiji, it's fine," Fuji said haltingly. He wanted to brush off Eiji's concern, but he was having a little trouble keeping up with Eiji's roller-coaster-like emotions after being away from them for a week. "Technically it's not my birthday for another two years."

"That's no good, Fuji!" Eiji said angrily. He tapped a finger on his chin thoughtfully. His face suddenly lit up, and he clapped his hands excitedly. "I got it! I can treat you to lunch! Hmm, if we're going out to eat, I should invite Oishi too."

While Eiji fumbled with his cell phone and got Oishi on the line, Fuji softly chuckled at the other's impulse to always include his partner in his activities. Now that he brought it up, having a late lunch with two of his friends did sound like a nice idea.

"Hey Fuji," Eiji suddenly interjected, covering the receiver with his hand, "Oishi is out picking up groceries for his mom. Is there anywhere you want to go?"

Fuji hummed thoughtfully, then smiled. "Why don't we go to Kawamura Sushi? I'm in the mood for some wasabi sushi, and it'll be nice to see Taka-san."

"Right, Taka-san's place," Eiji repeated into the phone, ignoring the mention of the vile wasabi sushi. He had never understood Fuji's strange taste buds. "Good. We'll meet you there in a half hour. Right. Bye Oishi!"

Eiji grabbed Fuji's hands and tugged him out of his bedroom. "Let's go!" he shouted cheerfully.

Between Eiji's voice and their thundering footsteps, Fuji wasn't surprised to see Yumiko waiting at the base of the staircase. "Neesan, Eiji is treating me to sushi for my birthday. I'll have my phone with me."

Yumiko smiled, showing just how much the Fuji siblings resembled each other. "Eiji-kun, thank you for thinking of my brother. Syusuke, don't stay out too late. If you do," she warned, "the raspberry pie will be gone before you get home."

"I understand, Neesan." If the raspberry pie was gone, that meant that Yuuta would have finished off his favorite dessert and already left for St. Rudolph. It was having his brother home to celebrate his birthday, and not indulging in any type of sweet, that was the real present from his sister. He would be sure to return home before Yuuta had finished off the treat that lured him home for the weekend. "We'll be going now."

Fuji barely heard her reply call of "Have a safe trip!" before the front door slammed shut behind him and Eiji pulled him out onto the sidewalk toward their destination.

~II~II~II~

"Fuji, go in without me. I'm going to try and call Oishi first."

"Okay, Eiji."

Fuji slid the door open to Kawamura Sushi and ducked under the cloth overhang. He lifted his head, brushing his hair out of his eyes. The cheerful greeting he had prepared for Kawamura died off as he got a proper look at the patrons seated inside.

Where he had been expecting to see Kawamura's shy smile behind the counter, he was instead welcomed by five familiar faces grinning back at him and a hearty chorus of " _Happy birthday!_ ".

Fuji's eyes widened in delight. Not only were Kawamura and Oishi present, but Inui, Momoshiro and Kaidoh were also waiting for him.

Having so many dear friends and teammates gathered to celebrate his birthday was a wonderful surprise. He was truly touched by Eiji's thoughtfulness in planning a gift like this for him. Fuji heard the door slide open behind him and, assuming Eiji had waited outside to spring the surprise, turned to thank him.

"Hmmm, that's weird," Eiji muttered, oblivious to his surroundings while he punched buttons on his phone in frustration. "Oishi's not answering. Hey, Fuji..."

Eiji's question trailed off once he picked his head up. He slowly raised a finger, pointing at each of the faces he recognized. When the finger landed on Oishi, Eiji finally seemed to snap out of his shock.

"Eh? What's everyone doing here?

Fuji stepped back, startled by Eiji's explosive reaction. "Eiji, didn't you invite them?"

"No!" Eiji shouted, crossing his arms in front of his chest in an X-shape. "The only person I called was Oishi!"

Everyone's head swung toward Oishi, who rubbed his temple sheepishly under the scrutiny of his teammates. "Actually, I ran into Inui while I was on the phone with you, Eiji. He overheard part of our plans, and I, uh, mentioned your idea to celebrate Fuji's birthday."

Inui picked up the explanation. "After Oishi left to return home, I ran into Kaidoh as he was entering the cool down period of his workout. I suggested he join our gathering."

"And I had run into the Viper just before Inui-sempai!" Momoshiro added, jumping into the story. "When I heard Eiji-sempai was throwing Fuji-sempai a party, I had to help celebrate! The more people, the merrier the party!"

"You mean the more people for you to mooch off of," Kaidoh growled not-so-quietly under his breath.

Eiji bounced forward and threw his arms around Momoshiro, distracting him before the two first years could get sucked into another spat. "Aww, I'll always treat my adorable _kouhai_! You can count on that!"

"Eiji-sempai, that's great! I'll hold you to that promise!"

Fuji laughed, thoroughly amused at the team's antics. He joined them at the counter, taking a seat and jumping into the debate over what to order. In the midst of the chatter, one hand dropped down and patted his pants pocket. He was glad he had managed to grab his camera before Eiji pulled him out of his room. This way, he would be able to take both digital and mental snapshots to commemorate this treasured afternoon with his friends.

~F~

Considering what exuberant personalities the rest of the group had, Fuji wasn't surprised that the first person he was able to corner for a picture was Kaidoh. He was simply too polite to refuse.

While he was still blinking his eyes to clear the after-effects of the flash, Kaidoh gruffly said "Happy birthday, _sempai_."

"Thank you," Fuji said with a smile. He was already plotting which of the group to target next.

" _Sempai_?"

Fuji turned around. "Yes, Kaidoh?"

The first year was pointedly keeping his eyes on the ground. "You'll probably be busy, but if there's ever a weekend when you're free, would you like to meet to play a match?"

Fuji's smile warmed with affection. He knew how much courage it must have taken for Kaidoh to make such a request under the circumstances. He was such a dedicated and serious child. Fuji would look forward to playing against Kaidoh at some point in the future.

"Of course."

~F~

"Cheese!"

Arms slung around each other, Momoshiro and Eiji grinned for the camera. Fuji lowered the camera and debated who would be his next target.

"Ah, Fuji-sempai!"

Fuji twisted back around to face Momoshiro, who had stayed behind while Eiji scampered off to hunt for food. "I wanted to apologize for yelling after practice last week. Sometimes my mouth just starts off without waiting for my head to control it, you know?"

"It's fine, Momo," Fuji assured him with a chuckle. "I appreciate that you care so much about our team."

"Of course I care, Fuji-sempai!" Momoshiro declared. He waved a hand, which Fuji thought was meant for him to come closer. He quickly realized that Momoshiro's attention was fixed on something else.

"Eiji-sempai, that better not have been the last cucumber roll!"

~F~

"Of the Regulars," Fuji observed as he sat at the counter to snack on another piece of sushi, "Tezuka is the only one who isn't here."

Inui, sitting nearby, folded his arms across his chest. "I called Tezuka after I ran into Kaidoh," he announced. "However, we were disconnected before I could fully explain the situation." Inui's brow furrowed. "Strangely enough, Tezuka never picked up again after that."

Fuji shook his head over Tezuka's selective hearing. It would have been nice to have Tezuka join them, but he wasn't so greedy to ask for more than he had already received today. _Good food_ , he thought, savoring the spicy flavor of his wasabi roll, _and good friends_.

Fuji swiveled around in his chair as soon as he finished chewing. He intended to ask Inui to pose for a picture, but Inui spoke up first.

"Fuji, thank you for telling us your intentions directly. We will miss you, but at least we know how to keep in touch." Inui paused, and Fuji could read the expression on Inui's face as plainly as if it was written in one of his notebooks. The Seigaku data player obviously wanted to ask about Yanagi, but still wasn't sure how to do so. Maybe Fuji would able to open a line of communication between the two estranged friends.

"I'll definitely keep in touch," Fuji promised. "We'll play again in the future, and I won't be holding back."

Inui's glasses flashed, highlighting the wicked smirk that had appeared in response to Fuji's challenge. "I look forward to it."

Fuji snapped his picture.

~F~

After Inui wandered off to discuss tennis-related matters with Kaidoh, Fuji found himself face-to-face with their personal chef for the afternoon. Fuji watched as Taka-san diligently pressed a handful of rice into an oval. As he reached for the wasabi, Kawamura finally realized that he was the object of Fuji's scrutiny.

"Thanks for coming here, Fujiko. I heard from Eiji that you specifically asked to eat here, and that made me really happy." Kawamura set the completed piece of sushi on a serving plate and scooped out some more rice. "Actually," he confessed, "I was thinking about asking the team if they'd like to come here after tournaments. For group bonding."

Fuji set his elbows on the edge of the counter and looked around at the lively conversation that everyone was involved with.

"Mm-hm," he said, nodding in approval, "I think the team would love that." Fuji gratefully accepted the plate of sushi that Kawamura had just finished making. He bit into the first piece, cupping his hand around his mouth to catch a piece of rice that threatened to fall off.

"This is delicious, Taka-san! If your tennis is as good as your sushi, you're sure to earn a spot on the Regulars during the next ranking matches."

Kawamura blushed and focused on making more sushi. Fuji thought the pose captured Taka-san's personality perfectly and took his picture.

~F~

A hand that was intended to be comforting landed on Fuji's shoulder. He twisted around and, as he expected, found Oishi waiting next to him.

"Fuji, how are you?" Without waiting for an answer, Oishi dropped into the seat next to him. "I'm sorry for not noticing anything was wrong the last few weeks." Undoubtedly, it was an embarrassment to the "Mother" of the group to have been caught unaware of someone in pain or discomfort. "But congratulations on your transfer. Testing into Rikkai, that's very impressive!"

"Thank you." Fuji shook his head in agreement, thinking back on his marathon-like studying sessions in the days leading up to the exam. "Preparing for the tests was exhausting."

"And you didn't have anyone to talk to about it, did you?" Oishi pounded a fist against the countertop out of disgust at his failure. "I'm sorry I wasn't able to help, Fuji," he apologized. "And then I didn't even remember your birthday, so I didn't think of planning a party or getting a gift...there's no excuse for that!"

Fuji patted Oishi in the back. It might have been his intention to offer Fuji the comfort he thought the _tensai_ had lacked over the past few weeks, but it was obvious that he was in greater need of receiving comfort. "Don't worry about it, Oishi."

"No!" Oishi shook his head in denial. "I have to know if there's anything you want."

Fuji rested his chin on his shoulder, looking past Kaidoh and Inui's quiet conversation to where Eiji was now bickering with Momo over who could have the eel sushi from the platter Taka-san had just delivered. Watching the lighthearted scene, Fuji realized that their bonds of friendship would endure even if they weren't playing tennis on the same team anymore.

And that was the best birthday present he could have received.

~III~III~III~

_February 27, 2006_

The flash of a camera blinded Tezuka as he tucked his shoes in their proper cubby. Familiar with Fuji's antics after nearly two years, he merely raised an eyebrow in response. The flat response was answered by an even more mischievous smile.

"Tezuka," Fuji said, falling into step beside the taller second year, "you were the only one who didn't come to my birthday party."

"I apologize," he replied in an emotionless voice, "but I didn't know you were having a party."

Fuji chuckled. "Neither did I, but everyone ended up celebrating it yesterday anyway."

"Ah."

"Aren't you at least going to wish me a happy birthday?" Fuji teased Tezuka as they passed through the door into their classroom.

Tezuka stared coolly at Fuji. "Today is not your birthday. I will wish you a happy birthday tomorrow, which is as close as I can get to your birthday since it is not a leap year."

Fuji smiled as he sat down and leaned back in his chair. Life would never be perfect, but he suddenly had a feeling the next year was going to work out just fine after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Tournament season is fast approaching. Fuji gets his first taste of tennis as an official member of the Rikkai team.


	9. Law

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tournament season is fast approaching. Fuji gets his first taste of tennis as an official member of the Rikkai team.

_March 26, 2006_

Compared to the first time Fuji had visited, the Rikkai campus was a hive of activity when he arrived. The sound of the surf pounding against the coast was easily drowned out by the dull roar of students and adults milling about the campus. For the younger children, clearly incoming first years, today was a prime opportunity to familiarize themselves with the campus before classes began in a week's time.

As Fuji entered the main gates and began weaving through the crowds, he felt the weight of stares from the people left in his wake. He tightened the grip on his equipment bag self-consciously. There was a small bundle of nerves he had been unable to completely squash, and the unexpected attention was only worsening his apprehension.

It was only after noticing a very young child (an elementary-aged boy that most likely was dragged along with the rest of his family to tour the campus) openly pointing at him that Fuji understood. It wasn't anything he had _done_ that was drawing attention - it was what he was _wearing_. Opening his eyes a little wider, Fuji observed that the glances lingering on his uniform were filled with a mix of pride and awe. For the few people whose gazes he met, he hurriedly dipped his head in cordial greeting and acknowledgment of their admiration.

He only wished there was some way of letting them know that he hadn't done anything to deserve their respect.

Fuji expected to calm once he reached the familiar environment of the tennis courts, but he felt his breath catch in his throat when his destination came into view. The scene was one of controlled chaos, with tennis players wandering about as far as the eye could see. The majority was wearing the signature yellow-and-black of Rikkai, but a smaller number of teenagers were dressed in black warm-up pants and plain white polo shirts. Those players were mostly clustered, although a few had been brave enough to break away from the main group and take over space at one of the tennis walls.

"Fuji!"

Fuji pinpointed the voice calling his name coming from a little further down the row of practice walls, at the very end. The distinctive appearance of Jackal's head was visible above the crowd, so it was easy for Fuji to confirm who it was who yelled out. Fuji headed in that direction, and was relieved to see that Jackal was not the only familiar face around. Marui was monopolizing the wall they were in front of, slamming a ball with his racket with increasing flair. In between quick glances in Fuji's direction to make sure he was still walking in the right direction, Jackal watched the volley _tensai_ 's antics bemusedly from a safe distance so he wouldn't get hit. Nioh and Yagyu were also nearby, standing a few feet apart from each other engaged in a fast-paced volley drill. Despite the quick pace of the exercise, both boys raised their hands in greeting once Fuji jogged over.

Marui wrapped up his warm-up with a backhand shot that popped up over all their heads and bounced out of sight. He muttered a quick "Yo!" in Fuji's direction before pestering Jackal into retrieving the ball for him. "Why do I have to get it?" Jackal complained. Marui shrugged his shoulders and popped a bubble from his chewing gum, as if that was a good enough explanation. Since no one else commented and Jackal trudged off to track down the ball, Fuji concluded it _was_ reason enough.

While he waited for Jackal to return, Marui wedged himself into the drill with Nioh and Yagyu, turning the two person exercise into a test to see if the three of them could maintain the speed of their returns and keep the ball from hitting the ground. It was impressive to watch, but with Jackal gone Fuji was acutely aware that he was still an outsider - no matter how much he blended in with the crowd on the surface.

As if he heard the turn Fuji's thoughts had taken, Nioh glanced over. He looked Fuji over from head to toe, punctuating his inspection with a silent smirk. Fuji dropped his equipment bag to the ground and tried to convince himself to ignore Nioh's amusement with the way he was still getting used to his new uniform. They were going to be playing on the same team starting today; there was no reason for him _not_ to dress like everyone else.

Reflecting on how much Fuji looked like he belonged with the Rikkai team only drew his attention that much more to the players that were dressed differently. "Who are the opponents today?" Fuji asked. Much as he expected, the question didn't cause the trio to pause in their drill even a bit.

"Ninomiya," came the response, courtesy of Yagyu. "They're from a little to the west of here, in the Naka district."

Fuji nodded and continued studying the other players. "I'm not familiar with that team at all," he confessed.

Marui snorted. "Of course you're not. They're a decent enough team to scrimmage against, but they rarely make it past their city tournament."

"Which makes them an ideal choice for practice matches such as this for precisely that reason," Yagyu smoothly added, as if Marui hadn't jumped into the conversation. "The trouble they have in their city tournament ensures that we have freedom to try new techniques or strategies without worrying about it affecting us later in the season." Yagyu turned to Fuji as the rally briefly turned into a battle between Nioh and Marui to force the other to miss a return. "They're also very protective of their players, so any scouts are chased away."

Marui let out a frustrated groan as the ball flew under his racket and smacked into the training wall. "Scouts usually get chased off here anyway," Nioh drawled, "not that it would do then any good even if they could see us in action."

Fuji unzipped his bag and withdrew a racket and a ball, the latter which he threw to Marui. He stepped over to where the other ball had rolled to a stop. "I see," he said. "So, how is this type of practice run?"

"Matches have already been assigned," Yagyu explained. He had stepped back so that Marui and Nioh could continue their one-on-one battle. "The list has been posted on the door to the clubroom, with more copies tacked to the fencing posts around the courts for reference." Fuji bounced the ball he had picked up, then launched into his own warm-up against the wall. Anticipating Fuji's next question, Yagyu continued. "The line-up for the matches this year was planned by Sanada-kun and Yanagi-kun. The Ninomiya coach also assisted, of course."

"Do you know what your specific opponents are like," Fuji asked after he switched to his backhand. Yagyu exchanged a glance with Nioh, who turned to Maui, who shrugged.

"Nope." He smacked the ball at Yagyu, dragging the Gentleman back into their warm-up. "For scrimmages like these, Yukimura or Sanada always tells us our match assignments in person."

"That's because they have to give us our _special_ instructions at the same time," Nioh added.

Fuji caught the tennis ball and turned expectantly to the others for yet another explanation. It was Yagyu who took pity on Fuji's ignorance first.

"It's expected, as a matter of course, that each of the Regulars win their matches without dropping a game, just as if it was a tournament match. However, for scrimmages, we also receive an extra restriction." Yagyu paused to acknowledge Jackal's return to the group, wayward tennis ball in hand. "The restriction could be anything, really. It depends on the player, the opponent, and whatever Yukimura-kun has identified in each of our playing styles that requires the most improvement."

"Except this year, it's up to Sanada," Marui pointed out.

"Speaking of which, Sanada is speaking with Nanbara-sensei," Jackal interjected, which piqued the interest of his veteran teammates. "It looked like he was still trying to smooth things over." Nioh and Marui both shook their heads in amusement. Without waiting for Fuji to ask, Jackal smiled kindly at his new teammate and launched into a story. "Last year, Ninomiya had a hot-shot first year that they thought would help them sweep their city tournament and challenge us at the prefecture tournament. Everyone on the team insisted that the kid play Yukimura." Jackal shrugged. "So, Yukimura let him."

Fuji nodded, interested in hearing the outcome. "How did he do?"

"Yukimura won, of course," Marui said, popping a fresh piece of green gum into his mouth. Again, Fuji nodded. He had expected that much. Scrimmage or not, it would have been the talk across the national tennis circuit if the so-called Child of God lost a match. "The kid didn't get a single point," Marui continued. "By the end of the game, he was a mess."

"Well, to the boy's credit, he _did_ manage to finish the match," Yagyu noted neutrally.

" _Ah_ ," Nioh agreed. "He was stumbling all over the court, more likely to hurt himself with his racket than hit the ball, but he must have had some potential to keep moving that long."

"Maybe he _did_ ," Marui said, emphasizing his use of the past tense, "but not anymore." Marui turned back to Fuji. "Rumor is that the poor kid was so shook up from the match that he hasn't touched a racket since."

"Their coach is still a little sore over that," Jackal said, tying the story together. "After they lost their star player last year, he threatened not to train against Rikkai anymore."

"They probably only agreed to come back this year because they heard Yukimura wouldn't be playing," Nioh commented sourly.

A somber mood settled over the group in the wake of Nioh's observation. Yagyu folded his arms across his chest, while Jackal clenched his jaw. Marui viciously smacked the ball he was still holding at the wall, then caught it with his hand. To Fuji, it looked like he wanted to squeeze the ball until it popped open at the seams.

"Jackal! Fuji!"

Everyone shook off their funk when they heard the no-nonsense call to attention. Fuji in particular straightened as Sanada approached the group. It might have been silly, but he was more aware of his loss to Sanada now that he was "under his command", so to speak.

"Your match will begin on court three in ten minutes," Sanada instructed brusquely. Fuji felt his new _fukubuchou_ visually inspecting him. The taller youth's faze lingered on the wrist and ankle weights. Fuji suspected that it required all of Sanada's willpower to not demand that he count the weights in front of everyone. However, other students were still milling around nearby. He probably didn't want to give the impression that Rikkai didn't trust their Regulars.

Fuji felt somewhat annoyed that he was subject to that type of suspicious scrutiny, but tried to let it roll off his back. He was practically an intruder. With the exception of Akaya, the entire Rikkai competition squad consisted of third years. Even though not all of them had been Regulars during their first year, the bond they had formed while training together couldn't be ignored. It was just like the bond that Fuji had formed with Tezuka, Oishi, Eiji, Inui and Taka-san, after all.

"Jackal," Sanada said, pulling Fuji's attention back to the instructions being given by his new _fukubuchou_ , "You're responsible for the defense. They are not allowed to score more than two points the entire match. Fuji," he continued, shifting the weight of his stare onto his newest player, "you have the offense. You are required to score within four shots, including Jackal's returns."

"For every shot that goes over those limits, you will both run five laps around the athletic grounds." Fuji's eyes widened. As a school that catered to multiple levels of education, its sports facilities sprawled across the campus. Five laps around that area would easily equal a kilometer. If he got into even one long rally, he and Jackal could find themselves required to run a marathon.

Fuji quickly understood what powerful motivation those _special_ instructions were.

"I want the match finished in under 40 minutes," Sanada continued. "Every five minute interval longer than that will be ten additional laps." Fuji swallowed nervously and nodded in acknowledgment. Sanada briefly made eye contact with Jackal before turning to his next target. "Marui!"

As the volley _tensai_ received his instructions, Fuji glanced over at Jackal. Something felt off, and it wasn't just nerves. The foreign-born student smiled reassuringly. "Worried?" he asked.

"About you? Not at all," Fuji responded.

"Don't doubt yourself," Jackal advised. "Four shots isn't so bad. I heard that, once, Yukimura required Sanada to finish an entire match using only aces - service and returns." Jackal shook his head. " _That_ was a fast match. But even with four shots, we should easily make it under our time limit." Jackal clapped Fuji on the shoulder as Sanada addressed the entire group again.

"I will be observing the first round. Nioh, Yagyu, you will play after this round of matches."

Fuji looked around at their group. He noted that he and Jackal had rackets in hand - Marui and Yanagi, who had materialized behind Yagyu at some point, did as well. It looked like they would both be having singles matches. Since he had been preoccupied with his conversation with Jackal, he wondered what special restrictions they had on their matches.

Suddenly, Fuji realized what was bothering him. "Where's Akaya?" he asked his partner softly.

Jackal grimaced. "Dunno. The kid has a habit of getting lost when we go to practice matches hosted by other schools, but there's no excuse for missing one on our own campus." He sighed and shook his head. "Wherever he is, he might want to stay there. Sanada is going to be furious with him whenever he does show up."

Before Fuji knew it, the knot of Regulars headed down to the courts. A few clumps of people were forming in various spots around the playing area. There were both spectators from the other school as well as students dressed in the Rikkai uniform, but the majority of the people surrounding the court Fuji and Jackal were walking toward was wearing the trademark yellow tennis uniform. Ever observant, Fuji couldn't help but notice more than a few vicious glares aimed in his direction.

His fingers involuntarily clenched around the shaft of his racket. The hostile glares were a reminder that he might have earned the respect (or tolerance) of the elite tennis squad, but he was still a stranger to most of the Rikkai tennis club members. His performance today would probably have a long-lasting effect on how he was received next week when the new term started.

Jackal made an envious noise under his breath. The unexpected sound pulled Fuji's concentration back to the people that mattered for the next 40 minutes - their opponents. Two players were already on the court, shaking their limbs to keep them loose. Fuji immediately spotted why Jackal was jealous. Aside from him, each of the boys on the court had relatively long hair. The taller of the two had auburn hair, not unlike Fuji, while the broader of the pair had pitch-black hair.

"The darker-haired one is named Araki," Jackal informed Fuji in a low voice. He shifted so his mouth was blocked from view and their opponents could only see his profile. "He was on the team last year. He's a pretty aggressive player. Not intentionally violent, but the potential to get hurt from his shots is higher than your average player. I'm surprised he's in doubles this year." Jackal shook his head, still struggling to reconcile his memory with the current situation, then focused on the other player. "I don't recognize his partner. He could be new to the school, or new to tennis, but I doubt Sanada would put us up against a rookie."

Jackal must have decided that whichever was true was inconsequential, for he headed to the net after that. Fuji followed, greeting Araki first with a silent handshake. He and Jackal swapped partners. He quickly learned that the taller brunette was quite different from his partner. After introducing himself ( _"I'm Suzuki! Suzuki Jyan!"_ ), Suzuki enthusiastically shook his hand...well, more like his whole arm. If it wasn't for the pained sigh from Araki, Fuji might have suspected that he was trying to injure him. Instead, Fuji found his customary smile instinctively widening. Suzuki was genuinely excited to play this match, and that joy was contagious.

A Rikkai player that Fuji wasn't familiar with settled himself into the umpire's chair. "Kuwahara-Fuji pair versus Araki-Suzuki pair, Kuwahara to serve!"

Fuji took a position close to the net and crouched low to the ground. His efforts to keep himself out of the path of Jackal's serve were almost ruined when an unexpected scream of "FIRE!" caused him to violently flinch. Only past experience of training with Taka-san, who was equally prone of shouting English phrases at the top of his lungs in the middle of a match, allowed him to immediately push himself back into his game mindset. Araki hit a shallow ball, which allowed Fuji to score the first point with a quick smash to his opponent's forecourt.

After his second serve, Jackal defended the first two shots. Fuji moved back to the baseline, answering a lob with a flat shot to Suzuki's alley for the point. He returned to the front on the next shot, scoring on the fourth ball with a passing shot that stayed just outside the reach of Araki's racket. Fuji used a cross-court shot between their opponents on the third shot of the next ball to clinch the first game in Rikkai's favor.

As he walked beside Jackal to swap courts, Fuji wondered if the Ninomiya pair knew that he was on the Regulars or if they thought he was just a random pick from the general Rikkai squad. Suzuki didn't appear to care one way or the other, but Araki studied him suspiciously as he bounced the tennis ball in preparation for his serve.

As part of the receiving pair, Fuji had a chance to analyze everything he had observed about his opponents to this point. Like Jackal had warned, there was a cruel edge to Araki's tennis that was fiercely controlled. In comparison, Suzuki's style was wild. It was possible that Suzuki's power exceeded Araki's, but neither he nor his more composed partner could channel that power effectively. Fuji targeted that weakness, pinpointing his third shot so that Suzuki's backhand soared above the ball's bounce.

Fuji's efforts to meet his four-shot limit were causing him to fall into a nearly-musical pattern. Four-beat rhythms were some of the most common musical cadences, he mused as he found an opening near the left tramline on his fourth shot. Keeping that in mind, Fuji used his footwork to outmatch his opponents and get into position to score up the middle of the court on the third point. He managed to finish the game in only two shots with a broad groundstroke that rocketed past Araki before he could react.

His breathing was heavy as Fuji jogged back to the baseline for his serve. He could feel the adrenaline pulsing beneath his skin as his desire to exceed Sanada's expectations grew. Fuji snuck a glance at his opponents, then withdrew a ball from the pocket of his shorts. Sanada hadn't put any restrictions on the styles they could use. If speed was an important factor to this game, there was no reason to handicap himself by avoiding his special techniques. He might not have a speed serve guaranteed to give him a service ace, but the tricks he did have up his sleeve could achieve the same result.

With a flick of his wrist, Fuji launched the first of his underhand serves. As planned, Suzuki was left staring at the ground where he expected the ball to bounce in amazement, for it had disappeared in front of his eyes. Araki looked a little concerned that his partner had missed such a gentle serve. After Fuji repeated the trick for Araki, the dark-haired boy's concern blended with the confusion he was now experiencing first-hand.

Fuji didn't expect Suzuki to have figured out the trick to returning the disappearing serve that quickly, despite bouncing with excitement in hopes that Fuji would use the same technique. To his amusement, Suzuki seemed to become more enthusiastic when he missed again. Even though it was Araki's responsibility to field the fourth serve, Suzuki crouched down as if he had a chance to return it. When Araki missed the final shot, clenching the service for Fuji, Suzuki leapt into the air and shouted " _wakiwaki!_ ". Araki simply groaned.

"Game, Kuwahara-Fuji pair! Three games to love. Change court."

As they swapped courts, Fuji heard Araki demand that his partner stop using gibberish to describe his emotions and speak proper Japanese. He chuckled when it seemed like Suzuki remained oblivious to his partner's exasperation and continued to reenact the way the ball had vanished whenever he tried to return it.

"Nice shots," Jackal said, smiling appreciatively in admiration of Fuji's control of the ball. Fuji quietly said "Thanks." in response. To be honest, he was just relieved that he was able to wrap up those points without having to worry about his opponents returning them. The fact that he was able to do so in a little less than a minute was another stroke of good luck.

Increasing the tempo of the match couldn't have happened at a better time. As soon as Suzuki launched his first serve, Fuji could tell that something had changed in their opponents' strategy. It looked like they had finally caught on to the fact that Fuji was the only one scoring points. Their movements became much sharper and more guarded when Fuji dashed to return a ball, closing off avenues that Fuji would have used to score. He found himself rushing to the net on the fourth shot to force a drop shot to the ad court. Araki had anticipated that, and hooked his racket under the ball and angled his shot up. The sound of Fuji's heartbeat thudded in his ears when the ball smacked against the top of the net and bounced back down into their opponents' court.

Relief flooded Fuji's body. He had nearly failed to keep that rally under the required four shots. The pressure to avoid another close call weighed heavily on his mind. Fuji opted to stay at the front for the next three points, continuously volleying until he forced an opening in the opposing pair's court coverage. When the umpire's call rang out ("Four games to love."), Fuji wiped away the sweat on his forehead with the back of his hand.

He would have preferred to retreat to the baseline, where he was most comfortable, but with Jackal serving next it was important for him to remain at the net. Fuji considered how lucky he was that both of his opponents were about the same height as him - maybe even a little shorter. It made him less susceptible to lobs than if he was playing someone of taller height, such as Inui or Sanada. In fact, the opposite was true. His height was an advantage, for once. Fuji managed to handle Jackal's first serve by hitting two lobs to the back court, followed by a drop shot to score once the opposing pair was out of position.

Fuji needed to rely on Jackal to defend a few shots on the next two balls, signaling by hand when he was ready to poach for the scoring point. The volleying in the previous game had taken its toll. Between volleying, a style he normally used sparingly, and the weights he was still wearing around his wrists and ankles, Fuji could feel his fatigue building. It was hard to forget that he was playing with double the weights that he had been using just a month earlier, which had already been a considerable step up from what Seigaku trained with at that point in the off-season. Fuji wasn't a stranger to long games, but the special restrictions on the match caused him to push himself harder in a shorter period of time. Someone with less stamina would have been in serious trouble by now.

Araki tried to volley over Fuji on the game point, but he was starting to feel his second wind after handing the defensive burden off to Jackal for a short time. Fuji launched himself into the air and smashed the ball into the backcourt directly behind both of his opponents.

"Game, Kuwahara-Fuji pair! Five games to love. Change court."

Fuji and Jackal were one game away from wrapping up the match in their favor, and comfortably within their time limit. However, the Ninomiya pair wasn't going down without a fight. Araki in particular was looking a little desperate to exploit some type of flaw in their game. Fuji had managed to intercept his shots even when they lobbed them to Jackal, so he was now concentrating his serve and returns directly on Fuji. Fuji signaled for Jackal to stay near the baseline. Jackal might have ultimately been responsible for the defense, but he had to prove to himself that he could handle being directly attacked and still stay within the special restrictions. He lobbed three times, forcing both of his opponents to defend the rear of the court, then smashed into the ad court for the point.

Araki's next serve went to Jackal, who hit a shallow ball that forced both players to cover the net. It was the perfect set up so that Fuji could lob to the left back corner before either player could recover their formation. Araki looked pained as he served to Fuji's court on the next ball. He and his partner had been dominated by the makeshift Rikkai pair, and the conflict between his desire to win and just wanting the match to be over already was evident in his expression. Suzuki managed to pull Fuji into a brief volley exchange, but Fuji ended that on the fourth ball with a passing shot straight up Suzuki's tramline.

"Match point!" announced the umpire.

For the final ball, Fuji waited behind the base line while Jackal received. Araki's return headed to the backcourt as expected, so Fuji was ready. He sliced the ball toward the net, where it hit the cord and bounced into their opponents' court.

"Game Set. Won by Rikkai, Kuwahara-Fuji pair. Six games to love."

Fuji noisily sighed, happy that the match was over. He realized a few of the Regulars had joined the crowd of observers, including the _fukubuchou_. Sanada nodded approvingly and walked away, undoubtedly to handle some other club business before his own match. Fuji managed to shake Araki and Suzuki's hands and make it over to the sideline before he felt his knees try to buckle under the immense relief that they had avoided any penalty laps.

Yagyu passed both of the players cups of chilled water before heading out to take their place on the court. Once Fuji lowered himself to the ground, Marui threw a towel over to him.

"That's what you expect from our animal tamer!" he announced, popping a bubble.

The other Rikkai players glanced at each other, letting the silence speak for their confusion over Marui's abrupt declaration.

Nioh finally broke the lull in the conversation by dramatically sighing and cradling his head in his hand theatrically. "Looks like all those sweets have finally rotted your brain, fatty. What are you yammering about?"

"Shut it!" Marui retorted with a grimace. With tournament season on the horizon, Nioh was safe from physical retaliation for those horrid _marui_ jokes he liked to come up with. However, it didn't make him like them. And speaking of new names... "I just think we need to get Fuji his own nickname. It'll get confusing if people are calling us both _tensai_ ," he pointed out.

"Maybe we should just call you something different," Nioh fired back. "Maybe the bouncing _ball_ of Rikkai?"

"I said shut it!" Marui said, launching himself at Nioh. His fingers were inches away from Nioh's neck before Jackal grabbed Marui's arms and pulled him away from the Trickster.

Fuji laughed at the antics of his new teammates, but carefully reflected on what Marui had said. Maybe he had a point. The problem he had with the Rikkai uniform was that he still expected to pull it off and see a Seigaku uniform underneath. Perhaps he needed to think of himself as a whole new person so that he could adapt to how things were done at Rikkai. He could embrace this new beginning with all that it entailed - a new uniform, a new playing style, and so on.

Then again, changing too much would be like creating a new identity. He wouldn't be able to continue evolving if he lost sight of his past self, and Fuji didn't come to Rikkai to wipe the slate completely clean.

Fuji bunched the towel up and threw it back at Nioh, who was enjoying exchanging taunts with Marui even more now that he was physically restrained. "How did everyone's matches go?"

"I wish we had already played," Nioh complained. "It's bad enough that I got stuck playing with Sanada in doubles, but our opponents are jokes. Hata and Yoshiyuki, I think are their names."

"Correct," Yanagi said. "Hata Shurinosuke and Yoshiyuki Kirin, both third year players. Average players at best, but an experienced doubles team. They should be an adequate test of your ability to work with a difficult partner."

"That's an understatement," Nioh replied. "I've got a grouch on my side of the net, but the other side's worse. Hata's ridiculously flamboyant, almost as bad as Hyotei's Atobe. And Yoshiyuki is just a goofball."

"Hey, Yoshiyuki has his funny moments," Marui cut in, sparking a new round of bickering with Nioh.

"Yanagi, did your match go alright?" Fuji asked.

" _Ah,_ " Yanagi confirmed. "My opponent was also a third year, Ono Kyosuke. He's a naturally intellectual player, but he forces himself to be more aggressive than he needs to be, which hampers his playing style. With an internal conflict such as that, he isn't really suited for competitive tennis."

"My guy was the same way. Inada, erm, Inada _Gen_ , I think it was," Marui said, wracking his brain for the unimportant name. "At least he understood that he wasn't really cut out for tennis. After our match, he told me point blank that he's dropping out in favor of joining their school's theater club."

"No way! _Sempai_ , I missed all of your matches?"

Everyone turned to see a pouting Akaya bent-over, clutching his knees and panting while he tried to catch his breath. His sudden appearance had stunned the rest of the Rikkai Regulars.

Well, almost all of them.

"Akaya!"

Akaya let out a soft " _eep!_ " and turned to face an infuriated Sanada. He rubbed the bottom of his nose with a knuckle nervously. " _Fukubuchou_ , you wouldn't believe what happened this morning..."

The small group witnessing the encounter would later say that they could pinpoint the exact moment that Sanada's temper went from a steady simmer to a roiling boil. His eyes narrowed to barely more than slits and he barked without hesitation " _Tarundoru_!"

As fast as a katana blade, Sanada's arm slashed through the air and smacked Akaya across the cheek. The soon-to-be-second year tumbled to the ground under the force of Sanada's slap.

Fuji gasped, finding it unbelievable the way Sanada had just attacked their youngest member. Shock gave way to concern, and eventually anger on Akaya's behalf. He pushed himself to his feet and even took a step toward Sanada to let the respected _fukubuchou_ know exactly what he thought of such violent behavior, but someone grabbed his shoulder and held him in place.

"Don't interfere," Nioh quietly ordered. Fuji's eyes flashed with repressed anger in response. "But he - "

Nioh interrupted him again. "That's how things are done at Rikkai," he explained. Fuji glanced around at the group. There was disappointment on everyone's faces, but none was directed at Sanada. He felt his anger bleed away into confusion. "Look, Akaya's not hurt," Nioh assured Fuji, "and he'll think twice about being late to practice again."

Nioh dropped his hand from Fuji's shoulder after recognizing that he wasn't going to try and take a swing at Sanada for the time being. "Yeah, it's harsh, but that's the law of Rikkai."

The way Nioh phrased his words piqued something in Fuji's mind. "The _law_?"

Nioh smirked. "We evolve by exposing ourselves to adversity, all so that we can obey the two rules that should never be forgotten: Losing is not allowed. Winning is an absolute."

While he absorbed the "law" that he had just been taught, Fuji listened half-heartedly to Sanada issue the instructions Akaya would have to follow as he played his match. Not only was he required to add penalty weights ( _"Since you obviously still need to increase your speed,"_ Sanada said in a harsh tone), but he was not allowed to enter the forecourt. In the analytical part of Fuji's mind, he absently noted that a restriction such as that would make him particularly vulnerable to drop shots. With a 10-lap penalty for each point scored against him, Akaya was all-but guaranteed to run several kilometers once his opponent figured out that he wasn't chasing shallow balls.

As soon as Akaya composed himself enough to fetch his equipment, Nioh turned back to Fuji. "If you want to help the brat, it wouldn't hurt to warm up with him. Cheering him up a little might keep him from taking out his frustration on the wimpy second year that's his opponent. _Aka-chan_ would probably overwhelm that Fukami kid even if he was in a good mood."

Fuji nodded gratefully for the tip. Keeping his body active was a better option than letting his mind wander. He decided to take Nioh's advice and track down Akaya so that they could both work off the brunt of their frustration.

As he briskly walked out of the court area, Fuji realized that the Rikkai club members were very careful to stay out of his way. The clumps of players were also watching him with far less hostility than they had when he first walked into the court with Jackal. It had been replaced with wariness, having witnessed him play what appeared to be a ruthless game with very little flash to his playing style. Fuji felt his esteem for Yanagi (because it seemed more of his style than Sanada's) creep up. With the restrictions that had been placed on him and Jackal, any mutiny over an outsider being promoted to the Regulars had been squashed before it could even gain traction.

Fuji had already won a battle that he hadn't even known he was fighting. That seemed to be the type of "absolute" winning that Rikkai prized.

Uneasiness pooling in the pit of his stomach, Fuji began to wonder if perhaps attending Rikkai wasn't the best fit for him after all.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: With classes starting, Fuji has no time for unease. But is he really suited for playing tennis at Rikkai?
> 
> **If you're reading the story for the first time on Ao3, please note that I mistakenly uploaded this chapter, Law, before the chapter that was supposed to come first (Birth). My apologies for any confusion.**


	10. School

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With classes starting, Fuji has no time for unease. But is he really suited for playing tennis at Rikkai?

_April 3, 2006_

On the first day of the spring term, Fuji exited his house with no more fanfare than a whispered "I'm off!" into the silence of his still-slumbering household and a soft click as he shut the front door of his house behind him. He felt guilty about sneaking out, especially after his mother specifically asked him to wake her before he left so that she could send him off with a congratulatory cup of coffee, but he felt letting her sleep was the proper thing. As much as his mother claimed that she wanted to see him off before he officially started his final year of middle school, the local train he had to catch in order to make it to Rikkai on time was quite early. He would have felt even more guilty if he had given in to her request and woken her up at such a ridiculous hour just so that she could tell him to have a safe trip.

Both Yumiko-neesan and his mother had fussed over him enough over the weekend. Neesan had even forced him to model different combinations of the summer and winter versions of his school and tennis uniforms for over an hour. Fuji remembered fondly how she had done the same thing to Yuuta when he transferred schools. He still had all the pictures in one of his albums, chronicling the way Yuuta went from mildly annoyed at his siblings to practically murderous.

Such fond memories.

Unfortunately, even though it had been Fuji's turn to suffer through Neesan's idea of a fashion show, Yuuta wasn't there to enjoy the experience. He had left for the St. Rudolph dorms early on Saturday morning to unpack and prepare for the start of the new semester. Mixing and matching the clothes hadn't been half as much fun as it could have been if his little brother was also there to tease.

Lulled by the rocking motion of the trains carrying him south and the quiet hum of conversation between early morning commuters, Fuji allowed himself to drift in memories of his family until they approached the station of Fujisawa. Glancing around, he realized that the train had picked up a few more students in the dark uniforms of the Rikkai middle and high schools who made a similarly long commute to the elite school. Fuji followed the small crowd of students to the local train running parallel to the beach that would drop them off, after making a sharp turn inland, practically next to the school campus.

There was less and less variation in the composition of the travelers, until everyone finally disembarked at the station that (unofficially) served Rikkai Dai Fuzoku. Now surrounded by his new peers, Fuji had to admit to himself that he had less than altruistic motives for letting his mother sleep in. Truthfully, he had wanted to avoid dwelling on his emotions about his first day attending Rikkai. For the entire train ride home after the practice scrimmage, Fuji had struggled with the knowledge he gained during his first exercise as a member of their tennis team.

_"It's expected, as a matter of course, that each of the Regulars win their matches without dropping a game..."_

"Tarundoru!"

_"The law of Rikkai...Losing is not allowed. Winning is an absolute."_

Fuji swung his navy briefcase back and forth, as if it was a protective charm that could wipe the memories from his mind. However, they weren't cleared so easily. He always knew, in the back of his mind, that "disciplined" wasn't exactly a word that properly described Seigaku. The players all had goals and they knew how to buckle down and push themselves to improve themselves when necessary, but they were just as content to joke around and have fun as they ran drills at practice.

Rikkai, by comparison, was harsh and nearly militaristic in their approach to tennis. Even the more jovial members of the team lost their good cheer once a racket was put in their hand or they walked onto a court. As much as Akaya had brushed the slap aside during their warm-up rally last week, as if it was no big deal, Fuji was still having trouble dealing with the discipline measures that Sanada employed - evidently on a regular basis. He didn't think he was likely to ever find himself in the position of receiving one of those slaps - assuming they could make him stand still long enough for Sanada to aim - but just watching someone else accept that punishment had sent him reeling.

Fuji had heard an expression once that people become stronger in measure equal to their defeat. Glancing over at the waves rolling in and out over the sandy beach, he wondered which was more of a defeat - failing to meet the expectations that were set for him, or failing to speak up about a practice that he felt was morally wrong?

Well, there was no sense in dwelling on things he couldn't change...at least, not now. He would have to worry about improving himself before trying to transform anyone else.

Fuji merged back into the crowd of students calling out to each other; some politely, others eagerly sharing stories of trips they went on during break. He found himself exchanging greetings with a few other students as they passed by. He wondered if they were merely being polite or if some of them had been present at the matches the week before and already recognized him.

It was nice to walk into the school with so many other students. Starting tomorrow, and every day until the end of the tournament season, he would have to be on campus much earlier. Morning tennis practice had only been suspended to accommodate the various assemblies and other housekeeping matters that cropped up on the first day of school. Practice would began at seven o'clock sharp and continue until ten minutes before the bell rang. The entire club would have ten minutes to shower, change for class, and make it to their classrooms. Despite the prestige of belonging to the tennis club, Fuji had already been forewarned that most teachers became irritated if the "elite" athletes were tardy.

Thanks to Yanagi's advice, Fuji left the majority of his training equipment in a locker at the tennis clubhouse after the practice matches the week before. He'd kept a racket and a handful of balls at home in case Yuuta stopped by, looking for a game, but there was no sense in dragging everything back and forth to school when he would be spending several hours practicing at school every day. Not having to tote his equipment bag with him on the trains was a relief. He had never had the luxury of leaving his personal belongings in the open cubbies at Seigaku.

It was funny how so many things at Rikkai caused Fuji think about Seigaku. He couldn't help but compare the general atmosphere at the two schools as the final countdown to the first class of the year wound down. At Seigaku right now, he guessed that everyone was lining up to attend the assembly. Tezuka would be speaking as Student Council President, greeting both new and returning students alike. Rikkai took a more western approach - there would be no weekly assemblies since the school had too many students to have everyone gather on a regular basis. Assemblies would be reserved for special occasions.

Fuji imagined one would be held if the tennis team won another National Championship.

Or, as Sanada and his other teammates would say, _when._

Although the number of people dwindled as he approached the floor his classroom was on, the students were more prone to dart in and out of the familiar sliding doors. When Fuji reached his classroom, he hesitated to check that the sign above the door actually read 3B. As a result, Fuji's elbow knocked into the arm of another person who had been reaching forward to open the door at the same time.

"Ah, sorry about... You!"

Fuji turned to look at the person that had offered the aborted apology and offered his customary smile to the familiar red-head. "Fuji," he gently reminded the Rikkai _tensai._

"I knew that," Marui responded, still a little stunned by the unexpected meeting. "What are you doing here?"

"I go to school here now," Fuji answered dryly.

The amusement in Fuji's voice finally jolted Marui out of his shock-induced haze. "I know that too! What I meant was, what are you doing blocking the door to my classroom?"

Fuji tilted his head, intrigued at this development. "This is the classroom that I was assigned to as well."

Someone behind the pair chuckled. "That Yanagi. How scary he is, our strategist."

Marui and Fuji turned to see a smirking Nioh, comfortably slouched with his hands tucked inside his pockets. This new development had a visceral effect on Marui, who groaned and slapped a hand over his face. "I'm stuck with _both_ of you all year?" he asked with a slight whine in his voice.

Fuji couldn't help but cringe. "Is that a problem?" he asked cautiously.

Marui realized how negative his comment had sounded. "Oh, sorry. That's not what I meant. You're not that bad." (Somehow, Fuji wasn't comforted much by that clarification.) "But he's a different story," Marui finished, jerking a thumb in Nioh's direction.

"I'm wounded," Nioh quipped insincerely. "Now move, round-o. You're blocking the door."

Marui huffed, but stepped aside so that Nioh could pass through. "Fuji was blocking it first, and I told you to stop calling me stuff like that," he muttered, following him inside. Fuji entered the classroom behind them, somehow not surprised that both had claimed seats by the window. He walked to the empty chair between their desks in the same row next to the windows, belatedly realizing that this effectively made him the buffer between the cordially bickering pair. Fuji didn't mind, as long as he was near the window. He was a little disappointed that their classroom faced the courtyard formed by the classroom buildings instead of the ocean, but the view would hopefully be entertaining enough when he wanted a break from the tedium of lessons.

"...means we can figure it out now. Right, Fuji? Fuji!"

Fuji glanced over his shoulder, realizing that Marui (at the desk behind him) was trying to get his attention. "Sorry," he apologized, "I didn't realize you were talking to me. What did you say?"

Marui sighed, and Fuji realized for the first time that morning that Marui was already chewing his trademark gum. "Whatever, whatever. I was saying that we still need to get you a new nickname." Marui leaned against his desk and pointed at Fuji's chest. "Don't get me wrong. I'm fine that you're here with all of your special tricks...as long as you keep it straight that at Rikkai, _I'm_ the _tensai_. You can be...the zoologist!"

"Ah~" Nioh said, leaning so far back in his chair that he was looking at Fuji and Marui upside-down. "Sounds like someone is still jealous."

Fuji chuckled awkwardly as Marui tried to deny Nioh's accusation so quickly that his words tripped over each other and turned into nonsensical babbling. He wondered if he should assure Marui that he didn't need any type of nickname, _tensai_ or otherwise, but Nioh spoke up first.

"Anyway, you're just being repetitive now."

"Huh?" Marui said, puzzled at Nioh's accusation.

"You already tried animal trainer last week," Nioh reminded him.

Marui slumped into his chair. "They're different," he mumbled defensively. "And it's all Fuji's fault in the first place! He's the one that used animals in all of his counters." He popped a bubble petulantly.

"It's really not necessary to come up with something, Marui-kun," Fuji assured him. "I'm sure I'll be just fine without anything."

"Of course you do!" Marui declared passionately. "Think of our fans! It's important for them to be able to identify you!"

Fuji was saved from making any type of reply to Marui's plea, such as pointing out that people could use his _name_ when they wanted to refer to him, by the ringing of a bell over the intercom system. An adult pulling a large wheeled trunk, presumably their homeroom teacher, entered as the echoes of the bell were fading and launched into taking attendance without any preamble. The task completed, two students in the first row were then enlisted to distribute the contents of the trunk.

It turned out that the trunk contained a variety of instruments. Their teacher explained that they were simply going to be examining and comparing the instruments today, in preparation to play them by their appropriate groupings. Fuji was pleased to hear that, as he didn't have the slightest idea of how to begin playing the trumpet that ended up on his desk. Marui seemed quite pleased with the _o-koto_ he received, but Nioh appeared to be ignoring the recorder he ended up with in favor of staring out the window.

"Music is Nioh's least favorite class," Marui whispered to Fuji when their teacher was forced to bring a handful of students who were fiddling with their percussion instruments back under control. "I don't know why he doesn't like it. I couldn't think of a better way to start the day." Personally, Fuji agreed that it was a nice way to ease into their classes (and it promised to be a nice break after the stress of tennis practice), but he wouldn't be very cheerful if he had to face his least favorite subject at the start of every day either.

It wasn't long before the instruments were packed away again and tools of a different sort were brought out. Perhaps even more soothing than their first period music class was the calligraphy Fuji's class would be studying in their second period. Fuji had initially been surprised to see calligraphy on his schedule. Rikkai prided itself on preparing its students to enter the global marketplace upon graduation - one of the reasons Fuji's parents had been so supportive of the transfer - yet calligraphy was quite a traditional Japanese art form. Fuji didn't mind - he hadn't dedicated himself to learning the skill in the past, but it promised to be interesting. Since it was only the first day of classes, their teacher concentrated on proper care of their tools rather than any particular brushstroke technique.

Nioh perked up as soon as the class moved on to their next subject: science. He seemed to be particularly interested in the meteorological sciences they would be covering in their first unit. Considering that Nioh could be as unpredictable as the weather, Fuji wasn't surprised that the Trickster enjoyed learning about the forces of nature. Hopefully the spark in Nioh's eyes would be contagious. Unfortunately, science had generally been Fuji's least favorite subject. If he couldn't find a reason to immerse himself in the subject matter, he would need to pay close attention to his new teacher's quirks to ensure he didn't fall behind.

By the time the last class of the morning rolled around, Fuji was still feeling alert and energized. Although he had never had a problem with math class, the tedium of reviewing and memorizing geometric formulas quickly sapped his energy. Surprisingly, Nioh breezed through their exercises with ease, even volunteering to recite a few formulas even when Fuji had been certain his attention was focused elsewhere. On the contrary, Fuji could hear little groans from behind him and the sound of an eraser furiously racing back and forth across the paper. How ironic it was that Marui and Nioh's favorite classes appeared to be exactly opposite from each other.

Near the end of the class, sudden reverberations of a rich bass tune startled Fuji in the middle of copying an equation from his textbook. At first, he thought it was a special bell to alert the students that the lunch period had begun, but no one in the classroom made an attempt to get their food out. Instead, a wave of uncontrollable mirth seemed to gradually wash over the room, coaxing muffled laughter from the students and even a rueful chuckle from their teacher.

Fuji shifted in his chair, attempting to lean closer to the other side of the classroom without being too conspicuous. With eyes closed and ears intent on capturing as much sound as possible, he was able to identify words within the deep tune.

_"...continue to ascend the endless stairs to the top..."_

It was someone _singing_ , Fuji realized. And judging by the reactions of his classmates, it was someone very well known in the school.

Despite the momentary interruption, which faded away with the voice, the lunch hour was soon upon the students. Marui was immediately drawn into a conversation with the student to his immediate right, so Fuji tapped Nioh on the shoulder. The platinum haired boy raised an eyebrow in response to Fuji's approach.

"Nioh, could you tell me which stairwell will take me up to the roof?" Fuji remembered his speculation the week prior about the view of the ocean from a higher vantage point. Although he still did not have his camera with him, he was eager to test his theory out.

Nioh looked at Fuji strangely, which left Fuji feeling as if he had accidentally committed some faux pas with his request. "Just follow me," Nioh finally responded. "I was heading up there for lunch anyway."

Fuji smiled in thanks, grateful for his good fortune. He suspected that Nioh's hesitation was born out of a desire for solitude at lunch. He could easily have sent Fuji on a wild-goose-chase instead of giving him true directions. Once Fuji had his _bento_ in hand, the two exited the classroom in time to nearly collide with two more familiar faces.

"Nioh-kun. Fuji-kun."

"Yagyu-kun." Fuji said, bobbing his head in greeting to both the Gentleman and the Brazilian a step behind him. "Having a pleasant first day?"

Jackal grinned enthusiastically in answer, but soon thereafter found himself beset upon by a bubble-blowing red-head. "Hey, who forgot to tell me we were having a tennis meeting at lunch?" Marui wiggled his fingers in farewell to the student he had been chatting with in the classroom before diverting his attention back to his teammates.

"There's no meeting, Marui-kun," Yagyu explained calmly. "Our gathering was most likely by chance."

"Mm," Fuji agreed. "Nioh was helping me find my way up to the roof." Nioh scowled in response to Fuji's aspersion that he was being so overtly helpful, to which Yagyu quickly turned his head to conceal his amusement from the Trickster.

"Lunch on the roof sounds pretty nice," Jackal said thoughtfully. Nioh smacked his forehead with his palm, but otherwise did nothing to discourage his teammates from piling onto the bandwagon of eating together on the roof.

"You betcha!" Marui said while slinging his arm around Jackal. "A relaxing lunch is much better than a club meeting, and we were a few people short to do that anyway. Well, to have all the people that matter."

"Marui!" Jackal groaned, exasperated at his friend's tactlessness. Yagyu unconsciously glanced out a narrow window in the stairwell. "Sanada-kun and Yanagi-kun escorted Yukimura-kun to the front office after the last period. Although he was able to persuade his parents to let him attend morning classes, I believe Yukimura-kun has an appointment at the hospital this afternoon."

"Then I guess he won't be practice either," Jackal added somberly.

The group, which had gradually been making their way up the stairs to the roof during the conversation, reached the door leading out to the roof as the chatter died down. The soothing effect of the fresh air and clear sky wiped away most of the melancholy that had settled over everyone after the reminder of the battle their captain was facing every day.

Surprisingly (or perhaps _not_ so surprisingly), Nioh was the first to break the tension. "Guess that means we should enjoy ourselves at practice today," he said while settling on a half-wall that was often used by students as a bench. "The light workout we have today will be the closest we come to a day off until after the tournament season is over."

"Ah, club sign-ups," Jackal said fondly. Marui chimed in, "The one day a year that Yukimura, Sanada and Yanagi are too busy to make us work too hard."

"And will therefore increase our workout twofold tomorrow for slacking off." Yagyu pointed out.

Nioh snorted at his partner's attempt to be rational. "Wrangling the rookies makes it impossible to practice during club sign-ups. We'll pay for it tomorrow no matter what, so we might as well enjoy today."

Fuji, who had been absorbing the commentary on the social politics of the tennis club, decided to use Nioh's comment to get an explanation for something that had been bothering him. "Speaking of today, what was that singing last period? Everyone in the classroom reacted so strangely to it," he asked curiously.

The four returning Rikkai students looked at each other, as if daring one of the others to speak up first. After their silent caucus, it seemed Nioh had been elected the unlucky winner. "Not a _what_ , but a _who_. And the _who_ is Sanada."

The chopsticks that had been half-way to Fuji's mouth froze in mid-air. "Sanada?" he repeated incredulously. "Tennis _fukubuchou_ Sanada?"

"Correct," Yagyu confirmed. "As for the reactions of our peers, Sanada-kun's intense singing voice has become somewhat, ah, famous throughout the school. Most likely, his music class has begun with choir to avoid creating a distraction later in the semester."

"Not that he's a distraction because people call him a bad singer," Jackal pointed out neutrally.

"They wouldn't call him a good singer either!" Marui gleefully retorted.

"Whatever the case, there's no denying that his voice gets attention because it is distinctive," Yagyu interjected diplomatically. "I wouldn't bring it up in front of him, though. Sanada-kun is a little sensitive about people talking about his talent."

Although Marui as well as Nioh looked doubtful that Sanada's musical ability could be labeled a _talent_ , they let the topic drop and turned their attention to their lunches.

"So Fuji," Jackal asked between bites, "what do you think of the school so far?"

"Mmm..." Fuji pondered. "To be honest, I haven't experienced much besides tennis practice and classes. There are a few things besides the courts that I'd like to become familiar with."

"Oh?" Yagyu said, pausing to swat Nioh's hand away from his lunch, "Like what?"

"Well, I'd love to see the space that your photography club uses," Fuji admitted.

"You a photographer back at Seigaku or something?" Marui asked with his mouth half-full.

"Before Seigaku, actually," Fuji answered. "I've enjoyed taking pictures for as long I can remember. I wasn't officially a member of the Seigaku photography club, but they allowed me to use their equipment whenever I wanted. I spent nearly every lunch in that room, developing or editing photos."

"Wow," Marui said, genuinely impressed. "You probably wouldn't be able to join that club if you wanted - like most of 'em, their meetings are at the same time as tennis practice - but they'll probably let you use their space." Marui flicked Nioh's hand as it got close to his food, sneering at the Trickster for the attempted theft. "Their officers are big tennis fans."

"I assumed as much," Fuji replied, eying the finger now creeping into his _bento_ bemusedly. Really, all Nioh had to do was ask if he wanted to share. "Do any of the regulars have time to join another club?"

"No, not clubs," Yagyu answered bluntly. "However, several of us serve on school committees which meet less frequently. Sanada-kun and I are both on the discipline committee, Yanagi-kun is on the student council. Yukimura-kun greatly enjoys participating in the beautification committee, especially since he took ill in the fall. And I believe Jackal-kun has recently begun serving on the biology committee."

The flush in Jackal's cheeks in the wake of Yagyu's rundown had nothing to do with the breeze gently blowing across the roof. He slapped at Nioh's sticky fingers, causing all of the food he had swiped to fall back into Jackal's _bento_. "What about you, Fuji? Anything like that sound interesting?"

Fuji chuckled at Nioh's petulant expression at having lost the treats he had scavenged. "Well, before I started thinking about transferring, I had considered joining the yearbook committee. I liked the idea of gathering and chronicling everyone's aspirations before moving on to high school."

Yagyu nodded. "I can introduce you to the Chair of that committee. I'm sure she would appreciate any help you decide to offer."

"Thank y-"

Fuji broke off talking as Jackal leapt to his feet panting and the _bento_ on his lap clattered to the ground. "Jackal-kun?" Yagyu inquired with a certain degree of alarm. The boy in question was oblivious to his surroundings, seemingly in a great deal of discomfort.

"FIRE!"

Even after his bellow rang out across the rooftop, the Brazilian continued to fan his mouth with one hand while the other clutched his throat. Tears were visible at the corner of his eyes, which remained clenched tight.

Recognizing the symptoms, Fuji unscrewed the cap to a water bottle and pressed it into Jackal's hand. He greedily gulped the entire contents without coming up for air. When the taste buds in his mouth finally returned to normal (or something close to it), Jackal narrowed his eyes at the most likely culprit responsible for his pain.

"What was that for?" Jackal demanded, pointing angrily at Nioh. "I didn't do anything to deserve to be...be _poisoned_ like that!"

The Trickster laughed derisively. "What are you blaming me for?" he groused. "I was trying to take stuff from your lunch, not add anything to it," Nioh added under his breath.

Before Jackal could add to his accusations, Fuji gently interrupted. "Jackal, I think I know what happened. The incident just now was probably my fault."

"Fuji..." Jackal looked shocked that the nice-looking boy had executed such a wicked prank. The others looked equally surprised at the confession. "You did that?"

"Well, not intentionally," Fuji clarified. It was quickly apparent by the blank stares on everyone's faces that his statement hadn't explained anything. "Here," he said, holding out his _bento_ for everyone to see. "It looks like some of my lunch ended up in yours by accident."

Still wary of the torture his taste buds had been put through, Jackal made little effort to look at the content of Fuji's lunch. "Are you sure?" he asked skeptically, "The sushi I just ate was smothered in wasabi."

"Yes," Fuji confirmed with a kind smile. "My sister made wasabi sushi for me as a special treat for the first day of school."

Once again, Fuji's response was greeted by silence.

"Wait," Marui finally said, holding his hand up in the universal 'stop' position. "You eat wasabi sushi...by choice?" Marui asked incredulously.

Fuji nodded. "They're rather tasty."

Jackal shook his head, despairing that the relatively nice and normal teammate he thought he had been gaining was just as quirky as the rest of the members of their squad. Yagyu delicately packed up the remains of his lunch. He did not intend to continue eating as he pondered Fuji's unique taste buds for fear of upsetting his own stomach.

Nioh cupped his hands behind his head and stretched out on the wall. "Wasabi sushi, eh? Guess Fuji's lunch will be safe from moochers." Now that the contents were revealed, he was relieved he hadn't gotten to enjoy the prize he had pilfered.

As for Marui...when his brain finally processed Fuji's candid admission, he groaned and threw his hands up in the air. "I should have been taking notes," he muttered. "All this good material...there's got to be a decent nickname that can be made from it!"

Nioh theatrically banged his head against the wall in response.

"New members join the line! Returning members, report to Court B!"

"Everyone, please have your club admission form filled out by the time you reach the sign-up table."

Freshly changed into the shorts and shirt of his tennis uniform, Fuji hovered behind the two Regulars directing students to the desk where Sanada and Yanagi were accepting new club registrations. He was surprised that only Jackal and Yagyu were pitching in to assist so far. When the bell marking the end of classes rang, Marui had bolted out of the classroom. Nioh disappeared just as quickly, leaving Fuji to walk to practice by himself. Although he knew where the courts were located, having played on them several times by this point, the crush of students from all grade levels jostling to attend (or merely locate) their own club meetings caused the trip to take longer than expected. It didn't help that by heading toward the athletic fields he shared the destination of many of the other students.

Frankly, Fuji was a little taken aback by the amount of students in the crowd. Comparing the number of students assembling within the courts and those waiting to turn in their paperwork, Fuji estimated that the club might double in size.

"Last year, following the club's first national championship, the club tripled in size," Yagyu commented, having seen Fuji approach during his attempts to control the crowd and (correctly) guessing what he had been pondering. "I didn't believe there were enough students left in the school to double it again, but I appear to have been wrong."

"Nah, most of them will be gone before the Kanto Tournament," Marui piped up, still zipping up his jersey with a racket tucked under one arm. "Thanks, Jackal," he added after the Brazilian tossed him a tiny package, which was quickly revealed as a new stick of gum when it was ripped open. Marui wasted no time in popping it in his mouth and shoving the wrapper in the pocket of his warm-up pants.

"It's a shame most are really just here to gawk and claim that they're part of an amazing team, instead of having real tennis skills," Jackal agreed. "I thought it was bad last year, but winning a second championship made some second and third years that either quit or didn't have the guts to try before to give it another shot."

"Yeah," Marui replied. "I swear some of these kids are the same ones that couldn't cut it at practice last year. And... Are they..." Marui bounced on his toes to get a better glimpse of a clump of students in line by a large trash can. Back on flat feet, he scoffed and cupped his hands around his mouth. "Oi! This is the _boys_ tennis team! If you're a girl, get out of here and go track down the your own team if you want to play tennis!"

Fuji didn't have much of a chance to wonder why such an obvious announcement was necessary when more than a handful of disappointed girls emerged from the crowd and began the walk back to the main building. A few of the more brazen girls giggled and shot coy glances back at the boys assembled. Jackal laughed at Fuji's shocked expression. "I guess things weren't this bad at Seigaku?"

Rubbing the bridge of his nose, Fuji shook his head negatively. "New players just dropped their forms off at our coach's office. The returning Regulars usually weren't even on campus during the first practice of the year. Instead, we were sent to a practice match against a local opponent. By the time we attended our first official practice of the school year, the new members had been told what was expected of them by the rest of the squad."

Marui yelped and nearly choked on his gum as Nioh suddenly appeared behind him, invading his personal space. "Time to leave the rookies to Yanagi. Sanada's getting ready to give the announcements."

Sure enough, Sanada had stood from the registration table and was striding toward the returning players stretching on Court B. Fuji, along with the other Regulars, followed at a more leisurely pace. The general members of the club had already formed into lines and stood at attention by the time they arrived at the back to create their own line.

Belatedly, Fuji realized that one other person was already in their line - Akaya. He hadn't seen the younger boy earlier in the day since their classes were on separate floors. The second year's eyes were heavy-lidded, as if he had just woken up from a nap. Fuji could sympathize. His afternoon classes, consisting of Civics and German, hadn't kept his interest after lunch either. As soon as their teacher started discussing the historical role of the Emperor and its influence on the modern national government, his focus had turned inward to whatever daydreams his mind conjured while staring out the window.

"Losing is not allowed. Win at all costs."

Sanada waited for those words to echo in the minds and hearts of those assembled on the court. "This is the law of Rikkai. Everything you do as a member of the tennis club will ensure that law is upheld. Instructions are to be followed immediately and without question. Anyone who does not will be disciplined swiftly and firmly. If you fail to follow instructions more than once, you are wasting the club's time and will be told to leave."

Fuji was again reminded of the consequence Akaya had faced the previous week for arriving to a match late. With his imposing figure causing him to resemble a young military leader rather than the vice-captain of a tennis club, it was not difficult to imagine Sanada's effectiveness as a disciplinarian. The _fukubuchou_ began pacing up and down the front row.

"For morning practice, you will rotate through a regimen of weight training three days a week, drills two days a week, and a long-distance run one day a week. If there is any portion of the workout not finished in the morning, you will be expected to double the remainder and complete it in the afternoon. Once you have finished, you may add your name to the roster for that day's practice matches."

"Due to registration, you will join the new members on their introductory training today: fifteen kilometers, followed by swing drills. Once completed, you may apply for a match against any other person not currently occupied. If there are no remaining slots for matches, you are to find your name in the weight room and begin the routine proscribed for you."

Sanada paused, studying the crowd for complaints. Seeing and hearing none, he nodded approvingly. "Regulars, remain here. Everyone else, begin!"

As the club members began jogging out of the court fencing, one tall figure was visible walking in the opposite direction. Yanagi stopped at Sanada's left shoulder, the stack of registration forms gathered neatly in his hands. The two exchanged a glance, reaching some sort of a silent agreement.

"You'll be doing singles practice today," Sanada announced. "Pair up and take a court. Record the final score in the log in the clubhouse, then find a second person to play against. Only one of the two must be another Regular, but you may not interrupt the drills of a non-Regular to find your second opponent." Sanada held out his hand, and Yanagi passed the forms over. "Jackal, I will require your assistance with monitoring the drills when the members return. Everyone else, get started."

"Yes, sir!" the group chorused. Everyone quickly split off into pairs that they were likely well acquainted with after months of practicing with each other. Nioh and Yagyu wordlessly headed for the court at the far end of the enclosure, while a no-longer-drowsy Akaya practically threw himself at Yanagi. When Akaya ran ahead of him to line up on the court, Fuji noticed a smile briefly cross Yanagi's face at his _kouhai'_ s antics.

That left only one person for Fuji to play against. "Looks like we're starting out against each other, Marui-kun."

"Yeah, looks like. Stupid Sanada for stealing Jackal away," Marui said with a scowl. On his way to the closest empty court, he snapped his fingers and pointed at Fuji. "Do you think we can draw this out? You probably don't realize it now, but the rule about not snagging a non-Regular unless they've finished their drills is a pain. The only people who can finish the drills fast enough to get a decent match in are already on the Regulars."

"Ah, of course," Fuji agreed. "Which?"

Marui blew a bubble while he pondered, then sucked it back in to announce "Smooth".

The racket landed on rough, to Marui's chagrin, but the match that followed was indeed a "smooth" match. Marui's insecurity about no longer being the only _tensai_ on the team had him itching to show off his special techniques, which Fuji watched with open enjoyment. Fuji was especially vocal in complimenting him on the control he exhibited to execute Tightrope Walking. Fuji had become quite skilled at hitting cord balls, but to make the ball dance along the edge of the cord instead of merely bounce off was impressive.

The Iron Pole Strike didn't have the same force and strength of a smash, but the trajectory was similar enough to put Fuji in the mood to experiment. He enjoyed the challenge of trying to adapt the _Tsubame Gaeshi_ to return it, only to realize that he was better able to return it if he treated it like a drop shot.

Just as Marui predicted, only a few players had trickled back in to begin the swing drills when the two _tensai_ s finished their game. Marui gleefully sprinted back to the clubhouse to record the score of their match (7-5, in Marui's favor) while Fuji waited for a new partner to play against. It had been an enjoyable game, especially since Marui seemed to have forgotten about his obsession with conjuring a new nickname for Fuji.

"Syuusuke."

Fuji turned and greeted Yanagi for the first time that day. The Master refrained from commenting on the outcome of the match, although Fuji suspected he was aware of how much of their full potential both boys had been holding back. Yanagi gestured behind him. "Why don't you work with Akaya for the rest of practice? I've just finished a match with him and he's been eager to have a rematch against you."

"That sounds wonderful," Fuji agreed. Even without asking, he was sure that Yanagi hadn't held back against Akaya, which could only have added to the fire in the younger boy. To his surprise, Fuji felt that he may be just as eager for a rematch as the second year ace. Their first match had been extraordinarily thrilling. If they continued to compete against each other head-to-head, who knew what heights they could inspire each other to reach.

Fuji zealously turned to face his next opponent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: The first step on the road to the National Tournament is here! Fuji makes his official tournament debut as a member of the Rikkai Regulars. But wait...that can't really be his name on the roster in a doubles slot, can it? With who?

**Author's Note:**

> Cross-posted from ff.net. For additional background information and commentary about why I've made certain decisions, please check out my livejournal and/or dreamwidth accounts.


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